


A Slayer's Torment

by OneAgentofChaos (BeringsBulldog)



Series: The Phoenix [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Cruciamentum, Each part is a separate fic, First fanfic I ever wrote, First published in 2008, Multi, Part one of The Phoenix, The Phoenix Prophecy, Willow is a Wicca badass, egyptian mythology - Freeform, there will be three parts of The Phoenix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:30:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10028411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeringsBulldog/pseuds/OneAgentofChaos
Summary: Amid Faith trying to survive her 18th birthday, Willow's increased witch-fu powers, and Giles's struggle to justify his role in the Cruciamentum test, a figure watches over the Slayer and the witch to ensure their safety in order to successfully complete the first hurdle of The Phoenix Prophecy.





	1. Don't Mess With Willow

**Author's Note:**

> After much thought, I decided to separate my fic The Phoenix into three parts, and three separate fics.
> 
> This part is entirely an AU of Helpless. You will have questions once it is over, which I will address in part two called "A Funeral Pyre". I will be posting that shortly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All about Joss, certainly not me. The Harry Potter references are of course J.K. Rowling's. A few characters are of my creation: Ms. Gellar (Willow’s teacher), Candy, Bolton, Brown, and Smith. 
> 
> Spoilers: Pretty much all through the end of Season Three. 
> 
> Here is the basic info for the story:
> 
> -This first part is an AU of the season three episode "Helpless", but Faith takes Buffy's place, and is the only Slayer. 
> 
> -After Cruciamentum, Wesley still shows up, but it becomes very AU from then on.
> 
> -Buffy is a major player in the story however, and as time goes on, you will learn more about her.
> 
> -Everything is Canon for Xander and Willow, except the fluke. Xander and Cordelia got back together, but Willow and Oz did not. Oz no longer hangs out with the gang.
> 
> -In this story, Willow’s witch-fu powers are around season five level, minus the nosebleeds and other side effects we see in canon Willow. However, eventually we see Willow display powers beyond explanation.
> 
> -Faith comes from Boston area instead of Los Angeles, and was Called there. Faith was not as dark as “canon Faith”. However she was considered rebellious to an extent at her previous high school (this is Faith, after all). Unlike Buffy, she did not run with the popular crowd. Her parents are rarely around like Willow’s. They are out of town during the time period of this story. 
> 
> -It was Faith and Angel instead of Buffy/Angel, and he never comes back. Faith never left Sunnydale after killing Angel.
> 
> -I wrote this ages ago. It was my first fic, and while the writing is okay, I'd like to think I've improved. 
> 
> -This was originally posted it on the Buffy/Willow site "I Kind Of Love 2". I am posting all of my chapters from there, but the fic is unfinished. However, I plan to finish it up, which is why I am posting it on here.
> 
> -The Phoenix Prophecy revolves around Egyptian mythology. As the story moves along, various types of mythology are integrated and bent for my own nefarious purposes. 
> 
> -BIG thanks to my betas Didge and Melianthus; to Rebecca Ashling for her help on a very complicated story.
> 
> -Because I am doing this on my iPad, I had to cut and paste this story, so unfortunately, there is no use of bold or italics. I hope you can understand my formatting.
> 
> -Scenes are broken up by asterisks ***. I write in third person, past tense. However, each scene is told from the POV of one character. I had considered making each chapter one person's POV, but in the end, I really felt the need to show more than one POV. There is too much going on, and so many emotions each character goes through, I thought this was the best way.

“Yo Giles!”

The Watcher was so engrossed in Vampyrs And Werewolves: A Study in Contrast that he didn’t hear his Slayer’s call.

“Yo, Tweed Man!” Faith banged on the glass window of Giles’s office.

“Blast!”

A startled Giles proceeded to slop tea all over his lap and onto his desk. He dove for his old tome, barely managing to save it, hitting his knee on the edge of the desk in his haste. The Watcher began a fruitless search for a napkin to wipe the wet spot on his pants. Finding nothing, Giles resorted to pulling the handkerchief from his pocket.

Thank God the tea was only lukewarm.

Giles looked up only to see Faith making faces at him through the window. The Slayer grinned at him while he sent her a very British glare.

Faith strutted into his office, wearing her trademark smirk. “Guess you won’t be wiping your glasses today, huh? Don’t worry; I’ll make sure we’ll give you no reason to. Ya know, like talking about sex or kissing or groping...or why you have that wet spot right on the front of your pants...”

“Faith, please just-“ Giles was THIS close to going into lecture mode on the importance of drinking Earl Grey tea while reading such a respected and old tome. Instead, he wisely chose to forego the lecture as his charge would just ignore it anyways. Drying his lap classified as a higher priority at the moment. “Please, just go sit down while I take care of…this. I’ll return shortly.”

Hating his Slayer's smirk, Giles brushed past her, her laughter ringing behind him as he strode away.

***

As they entered the library, Xander and Willow narrowly dodged Giles as he burst through the doors.

“Whoa, there, G-man! What’s the rush? A one day only sale at Tweeds-R-Us?” Xander quipped, greatly amused by such a dramatic exit.

Not bothering to slow down, the two students could hear what sounded distinctly like “Bloody teenagers!”

Turning to Willow, Xander remarked, “Did he seem a little touchy to you?"

***

While waiting for Giles, the usual scenario was playing out: Faith leaning back in her chair with feet propped up on the desk twiddling a stake in her hands and looking extremely bored; Xander sitting on the table with one foot dangling over the side, eating what most likely was a candy bar, and only half paying attention; and the ever dutiful Willow reading excerpts from a book in the proper position: seated upright in a chair at the table.

“So you see, when you just remember that FOIL stands for First, Outer, Inner, Last, it’s really quite simple-“

“Will, how am I supposed to remember that?! I can barely remember what I ate for breakfast!”

Willow immediately jumped on that. “Xander, just think of it in terms of a burrito. It comes in foil, right? First, you get the burrito, wrapped in the foil. Then, you unwrap the Outer layer of the foil so you can eat the yummy goodness of the Inner part of the burrito. When you finish, the Last thing you do is throw the foil away!”

Xander looked confused for a moment as he chewed on his candy bar. The wheels were obviously trying to turn. “Yeah…burrito comes in foil…First get burrito…then take off foil…yummy goodness inside…throw foil away…Hey! I get it!”

Willow grinned, feeling a bit smug for being the one responsible for Xander's epiphany. This was short lived however as confusion covered the boy's face.

“But what happens if I decide to throw the foil away before I eat the burrito?"

Willow began to bang her head against the table while Faith fell out of her chair, laughing.

***

Giles walked to the library refreshed, his composure returned and thanking god he had worn his dark pants.

He arrived only to find his Slayer rolling around the floor in laughter, Willow banging her head on the table, and Xander looking both bemused and confused at the same time.

Xander’s head popped up at Giles's approach. “Hey, G-man!”

Willow stopped her head banging to look up at Giles, and a snickering Faith stood, plopping back into her chair.

“Xander, I have asked you repeatedly not to call me that,” Giles scolded. The boy just shrugged, obviously unrepentant. Giles sighed in resignation, feeling the exasperation of the many parents and teachers dealing with difficult adolescents.

Smirking, Faith lazily leaned back. “Get your lap dry, Giles?”

“Yes, it’s quite dry, thank you very much.” Giles ignored eye contact, praying Faith would let the manner drop.

Faith's gaze centered on Giles's pants, her obvious intent to continue to embarrass him. “Then why can I still see-“

“Now, let’s go over patrol from last night," Giles spoke over Faith, purposely altering the course of the conversation. Faith had to be the most exasperating Slayer ever Called. “Did you see or fight anything out of the ordinary?”

“Nah. Just the usual vamps." Faith shrugged, noticeably unconcerned. "No demons around. It’s been pretty quiet lately. The gang here will back that up.”

Nodding as if in confirmation, Xander finished off his candy bar, unceremoniously throwing the wrapper on the table. Giles scowled, eying the liter defiling the library table. The teenager caught the hint and grinned sheepishly. Stuffing the wrapper into his pocket, Xander moved off the table to plunk into one of the wooden chairs.

“It really was quiet, Giles." Willow's earnest reply brought Giles's attention to the young witch, who was sitting up straight, in wide-eyed alert as if ready to answer a question in class. "A big no on the demons…well, non-vamp demons…with horns and various gross body parts who spit green stuff that looks like snot, and-“

Cutting off the babble, Giles said, “Yes, Willow, thank you. So nothing of significance then, I take it."

“Just Wills here is getting real powerful with the magicks," Faith boasted. "She flame broiled two vamps. The vamps don’t know what hits ‘em, what with me and Wills here on the job.”

Faith winked at Willow, and the young witch's cheeks glowed a healthy shade of pink. The Watcher noticed the confidence and pride of achievement she only shone whenever dealing with anything in the realm of academia. He raised an eyebrow in question at Willow, impressed and concerned at the same time. The girl had a natural talent, and combined this with a brilliant mind and insatiable thirst for knowledge. Willow was the most mature of the Scoobies, but she was still emotionally young. Giles worried things came too easy, too fast for Willow to cope.

“It’s no big. I’ve been able to-"

***

“Okay Giles, what’s happening? Demons? Apocalypse?"

From the library doors, a long legged brunette strutted towards them as if she owned the place; which in her mind, she did.

Ignoring Willow, or the fact that she was interrupting Willow, Cordelia went straight to the point. After all, she had more important things to do. "I’ve got a manicure appointment in half-n-hour. We need to go through this fast, people," Cordelia huffed, not quite slamming her schoolbooks onto the table, and collapsed into the seat next to Xander in bored fashion.

Xander smiled and slung his arm across Cordelia's shoulders. "Just usual scooby stuff, honey."

Rolling her eyes, Cordelia dismissed snidely, "Is that all? Okay..." She made a show of consulting her brand new $800 wrist watch. "I have ten minutes to spare. It is so difficult to find a decent parking space. Giles, let's wrap this up, pronto." For the millionth time, she wondered why she even made the effort to come to these meetings.

The things she did for Xander Harris never ceased to amaze her.

***

“As I was saying, before being so rudely interrupted...“ Willow's scathing voice boomed across the table, "my magicks are really improving, and I've really been able to help Faith more." The redhead was satisfied to see a small spark of surprise in the self-centered cheerleader's eyes, and thought to herself, 'Ha! I can be just as tough as a whole giant box of nails, yes-sir-e!'

"Do you have any idea why your improvement in magicks is occurring at so fast a rate?" Giles's head dipped until he was staring at Willow over the top of his glasses making her exceedingly nervous. Willow had that same horrible feeling, as on that rare occasion in class she was asked a question that the teacher expected her to know the answer of, and she had no clue.

Shifting in her chair, Willow answered with less confidence than she felt, “No, not really. I am working hard learning as much about magick as I can, but I’m not working any harder, really, than usual. Why do you ask? Do you think something Hellmouth-y is behind it?”

Removing his glasses, Giles drew his handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping them.

'Oh, oh! Giles only does that when he’s either really embarrassed, or worried. And the worry always leads to much badness!'

Willow began to feel a major babble attack coming on. Luckily, Giles spoke before it could spew forth from her mouth.

"Yes, well, I don’t think there is a need to get worried about anything yet." Giles put his glasses back on, appearing thoughtful rather than concerned easing Willow's anxiety. "It's probably just the extra effort you've been making. I'm just surprised at how quickly you are advancing."

Clearing his throat, Giles directly addressed his Slayer. “Now, Faith, since things are relatively quiet at the moment, I think we should take the opportunity to focus on some mental training. Mental discipline is an extremely important skill for a Slayer to have. Being easily distracted can lead to injury or even death for you, not to mention those around you." Faith had begun twirling her stake again, hardly paying attention to Giles's Watcher spiel, and this seemed to set off Giles's ire. He snapped, "And yes, I am specifically referring to Willow, Xander, and Cordelia. So please, take this seriously!”

Willow winced at the bite in his tone and noticed Faith had the same reaction. The twirling stopped and Faith squirmed in her chair, chagrin clearly written on her face. “Geez, Giles, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I know the score, okay? Nothing’s gonna happen to them, or me, for that matter. Look, if it’s that big of a deal, then I’m there. It’s five by five.”

Giles stared at her for a long moment as if to gauge her sincerity. Apparently he was satisfied as he said, "We'll begin today, Faith. I will gather the necessary items needed for the exercises from my office.” Not even giving her a chance to protest, Giles gave a dismissive wave to the gang. “The rest of you are free to leave.”

And with that, he pivoted and strode to his office.

***

“Thank God!”

Feeling as if sitting through the meeting was beyond anyone's capabilities, Cordelia declared, “I thought this meeting would never end.” She glanced blatantly at her fancy wrist watch. Really only about two or three minutes had passed during Cordelia's alloted time frame for this torture. Nevertheless, three minutes was three minutes too long.

"Luckily, I’ve got enough time to make it to my manicure on schedule," she sighed. Cordelia pushed Xander back, who at this point was nearly draped all over her. "Xander, move."

“Cordy, wait a minute." Xander grasped her arm, but she shrugged him off. "We have to finalize our Faithy’s Festive Bronzin’ Birthday Bonanza.”

“Xander, I told you, I need to leave.” Rising, Cordelia grabbed her books. “You can fill me in on the details later.”

Focusing on Faith, Cordelia tactlessly added, “I’m only going to say this once, Faith. As much as it pains me to say it, graduating from this hell-hole is important to me, so PLEASE restrain yourself from sleeping with any vampires this year. No one needs a return of the horror fest that was 1998 .”

The room froze.

***

Willow knew Cordelia could be blunt and bitchy.

But since she had become Xander’s girlfriend, Cordelia seemed to have curbed her tongue somewhat.

Until now.

***

Cordelia had crossed the line, and everyone knew it.

Even Cordelia herself was aware of it. She finished gathering her things, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room. The tall brunette shoved her chair out of the way and began to move away from the table. This time Xander made no room to stop her.

But Willow did.

Before Cordelia was even conscious of what Willow was doing, the redhead was at Cordelia’s side, and a sound resembling the crack of a whip resounded in the library.

Cordelia placed her hand to her cheek in shock.

Little geeky Willow Rosenberg, whom she had endlessly ridiculed and humiliated throughout their school lives, had actually had the nerve to slap her!

***

Willow couldn’t stand it.

Her best friend was white, her face contorted in a mask of pain and regret. Even Faith’s usual bravado was missing. Willow knew the Slayer was incredibly self-conscious of the pain Angelus had inflicted upon them all, especially Giles. The redhead also knew, despite her constant assurances to the contrary, Faith would never forgive herself for what she considered to be her fault.

“How dare you!“ Willow hissed. “I didn’t think you were capable of being that cruel anymore. When you became Xander’s girlfriend, I thought you had become a better person." Willow's features hardened. "I thought you actually cared about someone other than yourself."

Muttering, Willow added, “I guess I was wrong.”

***

The room held a collective breath, and the ex-prom queen wore a mask of neutrality. Cordelia Chase did not handle any admittance of wrong; it simply wasn't done. By her anyways. This time Cordelia had pushed the envelope too far, and she just didn't know how to handle it by saving face. So she brought out her own version of game face to prepare for any contingency.

“Cordelia, I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Startled to hear Giles, Cordelia glanced his way and realized that no one had noticed his return nor the pained expression on his face.

As Cordelia turned around to Willow, her expression had become one of sympathy and contrition.

***

Willow's outrage dissolved.

Inside Cordelia lurked some vestige of a human being; there were actually layers to Cordelia after all.

Surprising Willow even further, Cordelia smiled, giving the redhead an almost proud look. “I never thought I’d say this…but you’re right, Willow. That was a little over the line, even for me.”

Willow raised her eyebrow, still not completely satisfied. Cordelia needed to do better than that for an apology.

And Willow was determined to squeeze one out of her.

***

“All right!”

Cordelia relented, the turbulent emotions in the room bothering her more than she cared to admit. “Maybe it was more than a little over the line.”

Addressing the Slayer first, Cordelia stated, “Okay Faith, I’ll admit it; my mouth took over before my brain could keep up. Obviously, this happens to some of us more than others.” Cordelia stared pointedly at Xander. “All I’m saying, is that I was just being honest, and sometimes honesty hurts.”

Willow growled, the anger resurfacing.

“But of course there are some things people should keep to themselves," Cordelia hastily added, and then in her own unique way stated, "Besides I think you’ve learned your lesson. And let’s face it, if there is one vampire you could have done it with, you at least had good taste. Angel was definitely a hottie.”

In spite of her anger, Willow reluctantly marveled once again at Cordelia’s ability to turn her own often spiteful statements into a backhanded compliment.

“It’s over. Done with. Can’t change it, let’s move on.” Cordelia faced Willow again, grinning. “Willow, I have to say that I’m impressed. You’ve really come a long way from that shy geek I used to tease.”

“Torment, you mean.” Willow grumbled.

Unsurprisingly, Cordelia chose to ignore the redhead’s comment. “But Willow, next time you go all Joan Crawford on me, just remember that I make a mean Bette Davis.” Cordelia winked and moved smoothly past Willow, calling over shoulder, “Xander, you can call me after seven.”

And with that she strutted towards the library doors, seemingly no worse for wear.

***

Everyone was stunned for a moment before Xander broke the silence.

“Okaaaay, what just happened?”

Willow noticed that Faith still didn’t look one hundred percent like herself. But her color had returned, and she seemed more at ease, relaxing more into the chair. “Let it go, Xan," Willow warned, and she was happy to see understanding dawn in his eyes as he glanced at Faith.

“Sorry, Wills,” he mumbled, sheepishly.

“Ahem.” Willow had momentarily forgotten Giles' presence and jumped slightly, still distracted from the previous emotional five minutes.

“Faith, let’s-“ Giles began.

Faith interrupted, rising from her seat. “I’ve got something I need to do, so I’ll catch ya all later.”

“Faith, are you alright?" Willow was concerned. The never ending recriminations were in full swing and the Slayer, who was never one to deal with emotions on the best of days, went into avoidance mode by simply leaving the subject and situation behind.

At Faith’s silence, Willow shared a knowing look with Xander and offered, “Faith, why don’t you come over to my house after dinner? I can help you with your paper on Macbeth for English.”

Faith hedged. “Will-“

“No more putting that off, missy!" Willow mock admonished, shaking her finger at Faith. "Slayer or not, you still need to pass English. Besides, you know what this means.” Willow pointed to her face.

Seeming to think it pertinent to contribute his two cents, Xander added, "Faith, you know, nothing beats Resolve Face. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“Yeah, yeah," Faith answered with a ghost of a smile, and then winked at Willow. "Okay, Red, see ya at 7:30.”

“You betcha!” Willow chirped, pleased to see signs of an upswing in mood. Preparing to leave, Willow unzipped her bookbag, and began to stuff her books inside.

“Faith, have you forgotten that we really need to work on your meditation exercises before you leave?”

Annoyed at Giles' seemingly lack of sympathy, Willow jumped in before the Slayer had a chance to answer. “Giles, maybe you should give Faith a break today.” The redhead gave Faith a sidelong glance

Xander's mischievous smile broke the somber mood in the room. “Yeah, G-man, Faith deserves some kick back time before Wills tortures her with parental units trying to keep apart teenage lovers who enjoy the fun of balcony scenes.”

“It’s Macbeth, Xander. Romeo and Juliet is a completely different play.” Willow playfully stuck her tongue out at him, this time was grateful for his ability to lighten intense situations.

Xander just shrugged, obviously not caring one way or another, and rose from his lazy sprawl in the chair.

Standing, Willow grunted slightly as she slid her heavy bookbag over her shoulders, while Faith stretched, relieving the tension with an audible pop from her shoulder blades. “No worries, Wills. I’m cool with doing Giles’ lessons in how to be a Slayer Zen Buddhist.”

Skeptically, the young witch raised an eyebrow.

“C’mon, Wills. Faith is in the capable hands of a very stuffy British Watcher. How can you get more safe than that?”

Willow's eyes flickered Giles' way, and she couldn’t help but notice the strange look crossing Giles’ face before reverting back to his usual stoic British countenance.

“It's all five by five.” Faith reiterated, so Willow reluctantly let it slide. “Okay, Xander, let’s go.”

“Bye guys. I’ll call ya when I get home, Wills," Faith said with a smile. The paleness in Faith's cheeks had now fully returned to a healthy pink glow, and Willow inwardly sighed in relief.

“You bet your boots you will!”

Faith looked a little surprised at the redhead’s declaration, but Willow just grinned and winked, leading a bemused Xander out the library doors. As the library doors swung shut, one more thought came to Willow.

'I wonder what Giles is hiding?'


	2. Lonely and Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the Scoobies are at the Bronze, a figure watches over them. Faith and Willow lament over their respective past relationships, and the figure laments over their own loneliness.

“This is Travers. What news do you have for me, Mr. Bolton?”

Travers relaxed into the private jet's leather seat as he flew across the Atlantic with the night's clouds obscuring any view of stars. John Bolton was a bloody moron but he also displayed acertain genius in research. For John Bolton was a faithful soldier: no questions asked, completely loyal to his superiors, and willing to die for the Cause he believed in.

Just the way Travers liked his minions.

And that thought made Travers smirk.

A timid voice came over the line. “Good evening, Mr. Travers, sir. I apologize for taking so long, but in translating the revised edition of the Ancient Tomes describing the specifics of a cleansing ritual to aid the Slayer’s-“

Travers cut his pointless babble off dismissively. “Yes, yes, fine." Instead Travers focused his attention on his real concern. "But I need more information on the special project I assigned to you. As I recall, that’s all you were supposed to be working on at this moment. This project takes top priority, Bolton. It is imperative we have all the information possible to make sure the Cause continues unimpaired. If you feel like you are unable to handle this, perhaps I should have entrusted this project to someone who understood that.”

Travers knew what strings to pull. The timid man would fold like an itty bitty baby.

“Oh! Sir, I have been working religiously on the project. Yesterday evening, something new came to light. I was waiting for your call-“

“What?! You have more information, and you neglected to CALL me as soon as possible?!” Travers pounded the airplane seat in anger.

“But sir, you strictly forbade me to get into contact with you. You said-“

“Yes, yes, I know what I said.” Travers was beyond pissed, and felt nothing but irritation at this moron. “Next time, I’ll spell it out for you. If you find anything remotely related to this Prophecy, you are to find some very discreet way to reach me. This is too important, Bolton.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” Bolton sounded like he was going to have a heart attack. Travers just wanted information so he sought to calm the idiot down.

“All right, just give me the information.” Travers nearly laughed as he heard the small sigh of relief from Bolton

“Well, sir, the prophecy references to a young witch. I believe that young witch to be one Willow Rosenberg.”

***

Willow kept sneaking glances at Faith as they walked.

The Slayer was being unusually quiet. They had studied for a couple of hours before Faith claimed that she needed a break, as her head was about to explode. Willow decided to acquiesce, especially since Cordelia was right: the prom queen did make a perfect Bette Davis. And Faith was just not up to dealing with that level of cruelty.

The young redhead decided it was time to break the silence and force Faith’s mind on something other than the trauma of last year's birthday. Wrapping her arm around the Slayer's shoulder, Willow soothed, “Don’t worry, Faith. You’ve done great so far, and we’re almost done. We’ll finish the rest of the paper up on the weekend.”

Faith smiled a bit forlornly, emotional exhaustion more than apparent. “Thanks, Wills. Definitely appreciate it.”

“No problem!” Willow chirped. “I knew you could do it.” A teasing grin spread across Willow’s face. “I didn’t even notice Cliff Notes this time.”

Faith grinned, and then Willow noticing the beginnings of a smirk, immediately became suspicious. Willow released her light hold of the Slayer's shoulder, dropping her arm to her side.

“Faith, you didn’t rent Mel Gibson's Hamlet did you?”

Willow asked, suspiciously.

Faith’s smirk grew. “Nah. I’m not into Mel. He’s cute, and all, but the asshole has some serious issues.”

Watching her friend closely, Willow just know there was something more.

And then it hit her.

Narrowing her eyes, Willow stopped walking, and put her hands on her hips. “Okay, which version of Hamlet did you rent?!"

The Slayer didn’t say anything, the smirk never leaving her face.

Not slowing her familiar cocky walk, Faith called back over her shoulder, “You gonna stand there all night, Red? The Bronze is only open until 2, ya know.”

Willow shook her head in exasperation, but laughed, happy her friend was back to her old self.

***

The figure in the shadows watched as the Slayer and the witch entered the teen club.

Having followed the two girls from a significant distance, the figure worried that the Slayer would sense their presence. Apparently not; for the Slayer and the young redheaded witch seemed completely oblivious to anything but their playful banter.

The figure in the shadows felt a stab of envy at this expression of close friendship, immediately followed by a sense of deep loss, pain, and longing.

'Will I ever be a part of that again?'

***

Willow plopped down onto their favorite couch, feeling lonely and lost.

Watching the couples dance, she kept replaying past regrets and actions in her mind. Of course, it didn’t help matters that Oz’s band was playing tonight. Or that Faith had placed her on duty watch for Xander while the Slayer went to the bar.

Willow continued to stare vacantly, her melancholy mood wrapping itself around her like a suffocating blanket.

***

Faith maneuvered through the crowd with ease, bringing two cokes along for the ride.

There was a new bartender tonight and usually Faith would try to convince the newbies to give her a Jack Daniels. It never worked but that didn’t stop her from trying.

The Slayer carefully handed Willow her drink and sank back into the couch, wondering why she felt like she had been run over by a mack truck.

'Hell, I think that goddamn truck was going a good ninety miles an hour.'

Faith shook her head, trying to focus on Bronzy fun. Sneaking a peek at Willow, the Slayer noticed the sadness not only in her friend's face but by the expression of her entire body.

This time it was her turn to cheer up Willow.

“Hey, Red, you wanna tell me why you look like someone just stole your laptop?"

With a forlorn smile, Willow replied, “It’s nothing. Just thinking, that’s all.”

“About?” Faith probed.

“I don’t know.” Willow's eyes flickered at the dance floor and then turned back to her friend. “I don’t know….It’s just that…Well...I was just wondering if I would ever be a half of a couple. I mean, a full couple….with me as one part of it.”

“Don’t think that way, Wills. You know you will.”

“You really think so? I just…after that fluke with Xander, I don’t even know if I deserve another chance.” The redhead dropped her head, playing with the hem of her brightly colored skirt.

“Look, Will, that was way back in October. It’s January now. Three months is more than enough time to punish yourself. After all, Xander and Cordy are fine now. Just because you and Oz didn’t get back together doesn’t mean you shouldn’t keep tryin’. There’s plenty of fish in the sea.”

Willow brought her head up, sending Faith a meaningful look. “I could say the same about you, you know.”

A shadow crossed the Slayer’s face. After this afternoon, Faith just wasn’t in the mood to discuss Angel. “We’re not talking about me.” Her voice was gruff.

“Yeah, well, we should, Faith. I know what Cordy said was beyond even her usual nastiness, but it’s more than time for you to move on.”

***

The redhead could see signs of anger emerging which slid into Faith’s usual bravado, a little too fast in Willow's mind.

“Look, I told you earlier, I’m five by five. I got my eye out, no worries.”

Willow narrowed her eyes, and sarcastically stated, “Yeah, right. That’s why you keep turning down every guy who only wants a dance.”

***

Faith squirmed in her seat, feeling irritation building.

She knew Willow was right, but hated being told it. Not to mention the fact that the Slayer hated being told what to do. Period.

Willow seemed to recognize the signs and backed off, sighing, “I guess we both still have issues to deal with.”

They both sat for a moment in silence. Faith swirled the coke and ice in her glass, lost in thought, while Willow continued to fiddle with her skirt. Faith was startled out of her musings by Willow noisily shifting around in her seat. Sitting up straight, the redhead looked the Slayer directly in the eye. Faith knew she was done for when she saw resolve face out in full force.

“As of right now, we, Willow Rosenberg and Faith Lehane, do solemnly swear to stop any and all sulkiness regarding flukes and sending boyfriends to hell.”

'In my case, literally,' crossed Faith’s mind.

“We will accept invitations to dance, to go out on dates, and will be happy to participate in liberal amounts of kissage. If this pact is broken, the breaker of said pact will be forced to watch a 24 hour marathon of Xander’s notoriously bad movie picks.” Willow always knew how to make Faith feel better.

The corner of Faith’s mouth twitched. “Ooh, harsh there, Wills.”

“Yeah, well, desperate times call for desperate measures.” Willow held up her pinky. “Now pinky swear.”

Rolling her eyes, the Slayer said, “Come on, Wills, you know how much I hate that, don’t ya?”

Willow smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Yeah, I do know. That’s why I make you do it.”

Faith grumbled some more and pouted.

“Faith!” The redhead pointed at her face. “You know what this means!”

“Damn, Red, stop with the resolve face already.” She tangled her pinky with her best friend’s. “Okay, there you go.”

“Say it, Faith.” Willow would not take no for an answer.

Sighing, Faith gave in. “I pinky swear. Happy Red?”

Willow grinned, obviously pleased with herself. "Darn tootin'!" Then with more seriousness, the redhead added, “I also pinky swear.”

Faith let go of Willow's finger and joked, “If anybody saw that, my rep is gonna take a major dive, Will.”

***

“What’s that about your rep, Faithy?”

Xander had just arrived, scooting his way next to the Slayer. Faith grunted as she slid over to make room for him.

“Nothing for you to be concerned about.”

Xander's gaze flipped from one to the other. “It doesn’t look that way to me. I see resolve face leftovers on a certain redhead’s face.”

***

Willow glanced at Faith, who simply rolled her eyes.

The young witch decided to go with a half-truth, as she feared Xander would only make inappropriate comments, not to mention the fact that he played a part in Willow’s woes. That was something neither one of them needed reminded of.

Sitting up straight, Willow smoothed out her skirt. “We simply decided that it was time to move forward and to let go of the past.” The redhead mentally noted Xander's sheepish expression. On Willow's part, the memory of the “fluke” brought a twinge of guilt, but she continued searching for levity.

“Actually, though, you do play a role in this pursuit.”

***

Raising an eyebrow, Xander wondered where Willow was heading with this.

Then he noticed impish Willow making an appearance.

'Oh, oh. I know that look.'

The corners of Willow's mouth twitched. “We decided that if one of us does not follow through on our pact, the breaker of said pact must be subjected to a Xander 24 hour movie marathon.”

Xander knew he should've been insulted, especially with Willow's obvious struggle at holding back her laughter. Instead he chose to appreciate his best friend's attempt at amusement towards an otherwise difficult topic, and took the teasing good-naturedly.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I have developed a finely honed skill in finding the best of the worst. Roger Ebert has nothing on me.”

“Yeah, thank god for that.” Faith dimples showed, letting Xander know that the old Faith was coming out to play. The boy grinned, feeling more than a little relieved. The Slayer had been steadily getting better but between Cordelia’s return of extreme tactlessness and Faith's birthday coming up, he was worried that mopey, moody Faith would return. Xander decided to try to focus on keeping things in a happy place by being upbeat and charming. Even if what he was about to bring up would threaten that.

“Soooo, I was thinking about how we all could meet here Saturday night about seven for the Faithy's birthday festivities? I figure we could start out here at the Bronze, and go from there. I happen to know a certain witch has a few surprises up her sleeve.” Xander winked at Willow.

***

Willow blushed as Faith turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s just a friendly friends get-together at my house,” she stated imperiously. Noticing Faith’s bemusement, she continued. “You know…like the eating of cake and playing games.” Willow finished with a happy grin.

Faith full teasing mode seemed to kick in. “Whaddya have in mind, Wills? ‘Cuz naked Xander is not up on my top list of things to see.”

“Hey!” Xander protested. “I’ll have you know a naked Xander is a superb present.”

Willow’s blush reappeared, deepening even further, if at all possible. “Oh! Oh, no! No naughty, naked games had here! Only fun, clean G rated games…although, there might be a PG in there 'cuz I was thinking of doing Pin the Stake on the Vampire…you know…vampires…scary…fangs….” She trailed off in an uncertain manner.

Xander and Faith bit their lips, and Willow scowled, knowing they were trying to clamp down on their urges to laugh.

“We got it, Wills. Only good clean fun.” Then Faith looked at her meaningfully and said, ”But I draw the line at Vampire piñatas.”

Willow's face registered alarm, quickly morphing into a glare aimed at Xander. 

“You weren’t supposed to tell her!”

This time Faith and Xander couldn’t keep their laughter inside.

***

Giles dropped unceremoniously into his desk chair, relieved that patrol was finished.

The Watcher had given the Slayer time off through her birthday, stating that she deserved to have a nice, peaceful birthday. Faith looked like she was on the verge of a smart aleck remark, but surprised him by not arguing. They had just finished their meditation exercises, with Faith ending up looking pale and drained.

Removing his glasses, Giles let them dangle in his hand while he rubbed his brow. He knew the real reason for her exhaustion and cursed his cowardice in not taking the moral course. But if Giles did, he would be fired and sent back to England. Quentin would send a new Watcher, completely under the Council’s thumb. The new Watcher would be unable to deal with the rebellious, smart mouthed Slayer that he had come to respect and care about as a surrogate daughter.

Giles smiled slightly at this thought, aware that Faith would never have survived this long without her unorthodox approach to her duties. The new Watcher would never understand the importance the Scoobies played in his Slayer’s life, and how much she depended upon them for help, friendship, support, and even love.

'Dear lord, even Xander makes a difference.'

Of course, Giles would never let the brunette boy know that. No, a new Watcher would equal only thing for his Slayer: death.

Giles placed his glasses back on, in a determined gesture. 'I’ll talk to Quentin. Perhaps if I re-emphasize how much she’s accomplished…how her record is beyond reproach…'

Giles rose and stretched. He felt surprised at how tired he was as things had been relatively quiet. The Watcher had only encountered one vampire all night which had been easily dispatched. It made him uneasy.

Switching off his living room lights, Giles ascended the staircase. He entered his bedroom, and stole a glance at his uncharacteristically unmade bed. Hoping he slept better tonight, Giles rummaged through his drawers for a clean pair of pajamas. Yawning, he tossed the pajamas onto the bed.

Yes, sleep was definitely in order.

Climbing into bed, Giles removed his glasses, laying them on the nightstand. Turning off his light, he settled under his covers.

Suddenly he wasn't tired anymore, and simply staring at the ceiling in the dark, knew he was in for a sleepless night.

***

Candy sipped her vanilla coke, pretending it was really a rum and coke.

She was feeling nervous. Candy had come to the Bronze alone, hoping to meet a nice guy. After her last relationship (or disaster), she was searching for a bit more maturity. She had had it with high school boys.

That’s when Candy noticed the pale black haired guy all decked out in leather looking her way. Was he really checking her out?

'I don’t recognize him. Maybe he goes to UC Sunnydale?'

Drawing a deep breath for courage, Candy proceeded to walk over to the young man, determined to make a fresh start.

***

Seeing Cordelia entering the club, Xander decided it was time to mend fences with her.

Hopefully, his bestest buds were, as Faith would say, five by five with it.

“Hey, guys, I’m going over to see Queen C. You know, I think the Xan-Man will be able to bring her around."

Willow had a sour look on her face, but Faith at least seemed receptive. “Yeah, don’t worry, Xan, it’s cool. I know deep down Queen C was only trying to help in the only way she knows how.”

Xander heard a bit of sarcasm, but decided to ignore it. He did, however, worry about Willow. Xander knew how protective the redhead was of her best friend in regards to the Angel/Angeleus impersonation of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The brunette boy was more than happy to be rid of the vampire but tried to lay off the subject in respect to Faith. Besides, he knew never to incur the wrath of a certain redheaded witch.

Xander flambé does not a tasty treat make.

“What about you, Wills?”

***

Willow softened a bit, knowing Xander only wanted everyone to just get along.

And as much as it annoyed her and even still upset the redhead a bit, she really felt deep down (okay, maybe not that deep) that Cordelia and Xander were good together.

So she gave in.

A little.

***

Willow blew out a frustrated breath that made the wisps of her hair fly up.

Although she gave a slight nod of her head, Xander could still see a faint lingering sense of irritation.

He smiled. Xander knew that the small consolation was the best he would gain from his childhood friend, but it was enough to make for a happy Scooby family again. Xander stood up, ready to take his leave, hoping he could find Cordelia in a better frame of mind.

“Cool. Don’t worry; I’ll have Queen C ready to put on a happy birthday tiara party hat in no time.”

***

As Xander walked away, Willow raised an eyebrow at the comment, while Faith just watched him go with a sense of amusement.

Turning to Willow, Faith was about to suggest that it was time to make good on their pact, as some boy was obviously giving Willow the eye. However, Faith became distracted when she noticed a pale, black haired boy decked out in leather navigating an oblivious pretty girl through the crowds.

That’s wicked obvious.

The Slayer frowned to herself, wondering why she hadn’t sensed the vampire’s presence before this. After the events of the day, her mind had been too pre-occupied to stop to consider why she hadn’t picked up on anything all night. Now reaching out fully with her Slayer senses Faith felt absolutely nothing. It was all just one big, empty void. No demons, no vampires, absolute zip.

“Excuse me, Wills. Gotta go play Slayer in Shining Armor to the blonde over there.”

***

Willow had been confused by the range of expressions crossing her friend’s features.

But spotting the couple, the young witch just nodded, thinking that she had found the reason behind the Slayer’s mood change. At least she isn’t thinking of Angel. Vampires can equal much badness but Faith taking out one vamp was no problem. At that realization, Willow relaxed back into the couch.

The Slayer stood up, and swaying a bit, grabbed the couch arm.

“Faith! Are you okay?” Alarmed, Willow reached out to help support Faith, but the Slayer brushed her hands away.

“I’m good, Red. Five by five. Be right back.”

Watching her walk away, Willow grew more concerned. Remembering Faith’s noticeable fatigue earlier only increased her anxiety. Rising from her seat, Willow surveyed the club with only one objective in mind.

She needed to find Xander, and she needed to find him now.


	3. Things That Go Bump In The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's business as usual on the hellmouth but unfortunately the Slayer is not up to the task in performing her duty. Fortunately for her, the figure keeping watch over Faith and Willlow is there and takes matter into their own hands.

'Damn, this is uncomfortable.'

The figure in the shadows moved restlessly, trying to settle into a more comfortable position. And upon doing so, her nice, new pair of leather pants ripped.

'Fuck! I am so sick of losing leather pants in protecting my interests. Goddamn it, does no one know how to make leather pants anymore?!'

Her eyes and ears took in a quick scan of the area, revealing nothing but the scurry of a mouse.

It had been quiet. Too quiet.

'Not even a Vamp in sight, and I followed the Slayer and the Witch the whole way!'

The figure wiggled around a bit, which only succeeded in making herself more wedged between the dumpster and the fence. After much muttering and cursing under her breath, she resumed her previous musings.

'If it was this quiet when I followed them, I wonder how the Watcher’s patrol went.'

Thinking about the Watcher made her scowl. The figure could feel anger bubbling to the surface, and unknowingly her hands balled up into small fists. The urge to hit the dumpster was overwhelming.

The figure knew she needed to rein in the anger, lest she lose it completely. After taking a couple of deep, steady breaths, she regained her self-control. Although the figure didn’t trust the Watcher, there was a reason she kept that anger in check. It was common knowledge that the Watcher didn’t adhere to strict Council guidelines. Despite his declaration of detachment, it was obvious that that really wasn’t the case. And the Slayer had survived thus far because of it.

The figure was aware of the Watcher's internal struggle regarding the Cruciamentum, which was happening in two days. It gave her mixed feelings. If the Watcher followed through with the Council’s objectives, the Slayer and the Witch could die. But if the Watcher stopped giving the Slayer injections, disobeying the Council, there would be repercussions that the figure was not prepared to deal with at the moment. As much as she hated it, the figure knew the Cruciamentum needed to go through as planned. But she would be there every step of the way making sure the Slayer and the Witch would survive. The situation called for the ultimate cloak and dagger routine.

'Ooh! I could be all James Bond-y with lots of cool spy gadgets. Maybe a hidden compartment in my stylish yet affordable boots for a tiny crossbow?'

This thought brought a mental giggle, but the giddiness was immediately replaced with sobriety. It was imperative that no one knew the figure existed. Not until she herself deemed it time. Above all else, she mustn’t lose sight of her main objectives.

The figure tried to ignore the other reason for her concern.

Like how every time her breath was taken away when the beautiful redhead appeared, how the redhead’s babble always brought a smile to her face, how the figure wanted to-

“C’mon baby, it’s right around the corner.”

Buffy Summers’s thoughts about the redhead, that she was trying to studiously (and failing miserably at) ignore, were interrupted as she saw the vamp lead his prey out of the Bronze.

'Crap! I so don’t need this right now.'

After successfully disentangling herself from the chain link fence, Buffy started following the couple down towards the alleyway, hoping to intervene without being seen.

***

Candy’s uneasiness grew.

The boy was leading them farther and farther into the dark alley.

His car was supposed to be here? Where were the other cars? She only saw a dumpster and various boxes, with trash scattered about.

The girl had been so excited that such a college aged hottie was coming on to her that she ignored that little nagging voice in the back of her mind telling her that this was a bad idea.

Now that little nagging voice was becoming louder.

“Jim, I really don’t feel like doing this anymore. I think maybe we should go back inside.”

Jim suddenly stopped walking, his cold hand dropping her warm, sweaty one.

“Sorry, baby, that’s not an option.”

Then he turned to face her and her uneasiness turned into a scream of outright terror.

***

Faith had just come out of the Bronze when she heard the scream in the alley.

"Shit!"

Continuing to cuss, the Slayer headed towards the alley, running hard.

***

There was no time to even consider if the Slayer knew the vampire had come outside with the girl.

Buffy had followed, waiting for the right time to make her move. Now from her vantage point in the shadows she could see the demon stop, obviously ready to eat his meal. When the vampire turned around in full game face, the girl let loose a high-pitched scream.

“Shut up, you little bitch!” The vampire stifled her scream with his cold hand.

Drawing the stake from her jacket, Buffy decided it was time to dust his ass. She quietly eased out of her hiding place, looking for the opportunity she needed to make a quick, easy kill. Then Buffy’s patience was rewarded. The girl gave the vampire a good kick in the shins, causing the demon to jerk back from her with a yelp.

Taking advantage of this distraction, Buffy came up from behind him, and drove the stake into his un-beating heart.

***

Candy was coughing from the sudden swirl of dust in her mouth, feeling incredibly disoriented.

Suddenly she felt someone gripping her arms, holding her upright. Stiffening against the wall, Candy opened her eyes to see a young woman staring at her in concern.

“Hey, you okay?”

Candy's breathing returned to normal, and she nodded. The young woman relinquished her hold on Candy’s arms.

“Where’s the guy you were with?”

Candy stared at the young woman for a moment, unable to process the question. What had happened? Where was...Jim, wasn’t it? She remembered leaving the Bronze, following him into the alley, him abruptly stopping and turning, his face…his face!

“Oh god! He…he’s…I…I don’t…” Candy paused, not sure how to continue. She watched the young woman take a quick scan of the area. Candy jumped as the young woman seized her arms again, this time in a rougher fashion.

“Okay, I need you to go back to the Bronze as fast as you can and call someone to come take you home.” The young woman spoke in a calm, authoritative manner. “Got it?”

Candy nodded, shakily. As she began to walk away, she briefly glanced back to see the young woman carefully scrutinizing the alleyway. “Are you a cop?”

This time the young woman looked at her in annoyance. “If I tell you I’m a cop, will that make you move your ass any faster?”

Candy felt taken aback at the abrasive tone. “Sorry. I’m leaving now.”

Quickly leaving the alley, Candy felt a mixture of shock and relief, wanting nothing more than to leave this nightmare behind.

***

Buffy hid back in the shadows while she watched the Slayer circle the area.

The Slayer’s right hand gripped her stake, ready to strike should the situation warrant it.

'Go back inside, Slayer. It’s over. Kaput. You don’t need to be out here anymore.'

Buffy was worried. She noticed how lethargic the Slayer seemed. Was she already too weak from the shots to even be out here?

The Slayer stopped her inspection of the alley and simply stood there with a puzzled frown on her face. Buffy could almost see the wheels turning in her head. The Slayer bent down, scooping up a handful of the vampire’s dust, seemingly to make sure it really was what it appeared to be. The Slayer rose and appeared to be satisfied, brushing her hands together to rid lingering vampire dust.

However, the Slayer lingered, scratching her head. It was pissing Buffy off.

She had a good idea for the reason of the slayer's puzzlement but thought the Slayer smart enough to get her ass out of the alley.

Apparently not.

Before Buffy could react, the Slayer was grabbed from behind and thrown against the wall.

Stupid Slayer.

***

“We need to find her, Xander.”

“Okay, Wills, calm down. I’m sure she’s around here somewhere.”

Xander was working hard to reassure the redheaded girl, but Willow seemed on the verge of panic. When she had found him and Cordelia, Willow had been in full babble mode. Eventually through his childhood friend's babbling, Xander had learned that Faith went to slay a vamp, and something was physically wrong with the Slayer. Willow was sure Faith wouldn't survive the encounter.

Xander remembered his own interaction with Faith earlier. The Slayer had appeared recovered from her moodiness, but there had been a lingering presence of fatigue in her face. Xander had to concede that Willow had a point, so they hurried to search for the Slayer

Now outside, it was simply the question of Faith's direction. Xander was just about to voice his opinion that checking one of two alleys on either side of the bronze was the best bet, when a girl came running from their right, colliding smack into him.

“Whoa!”

They both stumbled back a bit, but he managed to catch the girl in his arms. Xander worried she might actually pass out.

“Sorry. I just-“

Cordelia cut her off at the pass. “Hey! Get your hands off my boyfriend!”

Xander caught Willow rolling her eyes, as he helped the girl stand solidly by herself. Releasing the frightened girl and stepped back, he noticed Willow laying a gentle hand on the girl's trembling arm.

“Are you alright?” Willow soothed. The girl's shaking began to subside and her breathing regulated; Willow's compassionate efforts did the trick.

“Yeah, I’m fine, but we should get inside. I need to call...there was a monster…he tried…but someone stopped him.” She paused, sucking in a deep breath. “The police officer told me to come back here and call someone to take me home."

Police officer? What was she talking about?

Grasping her shoulders, Xander looked her directly in the eye. “Where did this happen?”

“Over in that alleyway over there.” The girl pointed off to the right.

Xander stared at Willow in silent communication, both thinking the same thing: Could she be talking about Faith?

Xander turned his attention back to the girl. “Let’s get you home.” Glancing at his girlfriend, he asked, “Hey, Cordy, can you take her back inside, and let her borrow your cell?”

Fortunately there was no argument from Cordelia for once. ”Sure," she sighed and Xander chuckled softly. He knew Cordelia's main reason for capitulation was actually her possessiveness of Xander. Geek he may be, but he was Cordelia's geek and he found he was very okay with that.

Willow gave him a strange look, and he only shrugged, mouthing, “Cordy” as if that explained it all. Willow rolled her eyes and he could see the retort on her lips when they were both brought up short by the frightened girl.

“But what about you guys?”

“Don’t worry about us. We’re made of pretty strong stuff," Willow declared, with a firm nod of her head as if to emphasize the point.

“But-“ The girl sputtered.

“Come on inside.” Cordelia cut the girl’s protests off, steering her towards the door. As the two went inside, Xander could hear Cordelia talking to the girl as if speaking to a child. “Okay. Reader’s Digest version: Vampires are real. Demons are real. Sunnydale has an abundance of both. Deal.”

Xander almost laughed, then saw Willow’s expression of disgust, and thought better of it. He nodded towards the alleyway.

“Come on, Will, let’s go.”

***

Faith never even saw it coming; never even had time to react.

The vampire had thrown her hard against the wall. Faith felt the wind knocked out of her, unable to recover as the vampire grabbed her by the collar of her jacket, yanking her up.

“Slayer!”

“Vampire!” Faith mocked him. “Geez, can’t you guys come up with anything else to say? I mean, I don’t even get a “hello”, or a “How ya doin’?” It makes me feel so unappreciated.”

Faith was stalling, and she knew it. She felt so weak, struggling in his grip to no avail. Faith tried to clamp down on the natural urge to panic.

What the hell was happening to her? She was the Slayer for Christ’s sakes!

Maybe if she kept him talking, she could find a way to break his grasp.

The Vampire sensed her predicament with glee. He gave Faith a feral smile, stepping fully into her personal space. Lowering his eyes, he gazed in rapture at her neck.

“I’ve heard that a Slayer’s blood is the most intoxicating blood on the planet.” The demon's eyes lifted to her face again. “As for appreciation, I promise to make it quick and painless.”

The putrid smell emanating from his open mouth made Faith nauseous, and the panic was becoming full blown. However, in his obvious excitement the vampire's hold lessened, giving Faith the opportunity she was waiting for. Her knee came up to crush the jewels of his manhood.

His visage showed surprise as the pain in his groin registered. Faith pushed the vampire backwards onto the ground, feeling the effort that simple action took. Drawing the stake from her pocket, Faith loomed above the demon and swung her hand back in an arc in preparation for the kill. Putting into it as much strength as she could muster, she wielded the stake down towards the core of his dead body.

Faith gasped as he caught her hand mid route, grabbing a fistful of her coat in the other at the same time. Before she was aware of it, the vampire pushed her back so far that she crashed into a pile of crates, solidly hitting her head. Groaning, Faith opened her eyes to a topsy-turvy world. She barely registered the vampire rising from the ground, beginning to walk towards her.

That’s when it happened.

It was so quick, Faith wasn’t even sure she had witnessed it.

The vampire was no longer towering above her. Through her haze, she could just make out the sounds of a scuffle, followed by the surprised cry of the demon just before it became ash. It was a sound Faith had heard, and that she herself had facilitated, many times.

Struggling to sit up, a wave of dizziness washed over her. Finally righting herself, she could of sworn that she saw a figure hovering in the shadows nearby. At that moment, she heard the sounds of someone coming to the alley.

When she looked back, the figure was gone.


	4. Secrets and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lines of morality blur for Giles while Buffy and Travers resolve to go ahead with their own agendas. However, Buffy begins to question why her mission is becoming more than about revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buffy's journal entry is separated by --------------------

Chapter 5-Secrets and Lies

Buffy was exhausted.

She was so tired she was even happy to see the fleabag motel otherwise known as The Sunnydale Arms.

And that’s saying something, she thought wryly.

Buffy walked up to the glass lobby door, annoyed by the jingle of the bell announcing her arrival as she stepped through. It was time to pay for an additional week’s worth of stay. She cringed internally at the thought of staying here any longer, but her options were extremely limited at the moment. The small lobby reeked of smoke causing Buffy to wrinkle her nose in distaste. Her annoyance was further aggravated as no one bothered to respond to the jingle of the bell that she so wanted to rip off.

“Hello? Hello?” Looking around, Buffy saw signs of life around the desk: a steaming cup of coffee, a magazine laying open, and a jacket strung across the back of the chair. She briefly wondered if the resident undead had made a snack of the scrawny desk clerk. Buffy tried again. “Excuse me? Excuse me?” She banged on the reception desk bell, nearly breaking it in the process. “How many fuckin’ bells do they need in here?! It’s not like anybody pays any attention to them," Buffy grumbled to the empty room. Her head was beginning to throb. All she wanted was a warm shower and her (albeit lumpy) bed.

“Is anyone here?” Buffy was in the act of going behind the desk to check in the back room when the scrawny desk clerk made an appearance.

“Hold your horses, already. Jesus, you’d think a man oughta to be able to take a leak in peace.” He finished zipping up the fly on his worn stained slacks while she disgustedly averted her eyes.

“Look, I just need to pay my bill for the coming week.” Buffy did her best to reign in her impatience, but he was making it difficult.

He eyed her musingly for a moment before he spoke. “Room 20, right?”

“Yeah, Room 20.” Buffy began to rummage through her left leather pants pocket for her wallet, vaguely wondering if she would be able to fix the fabric tear in the calf resulting from her nightly activities. “How much is the total?”

The scrawny clerk scratched his balding head. “Well, $140 oughta cover it.”

“Fine.” The blonde’s voice was terse as she pulled the cash out of her wallet. She handed him the money, watching as he wrote out her receipt.

“Alright, you’re paid through the week.”

“Thanks.” He handed her the receipt and Buffy moved to leave, but the scrawny clerk stopped her.

“Gladys set aside something for you.” The scrawny clerk removed an envelope from the desk drawer, sliding it across the counter to Buffy. “She said someone dropped it off here this afternoon.”

“Oh.” Buffy scooped up the envelope, noticing nothing more than her name on the cover. She had a suspicion who it was from, wondering why he insisted on doing things the way he did. Buffy slipped the envelope into her inside leather jacket pocket.

“Strange, someone brought it.” He peered at it, almost leaning over the desk. “Anything’ interestin’?”

It was obvious the scrawny desk clerk’s curiosity was piqued, but Buffy just chose to ignore it. Instead, she gave a small smile. "Thank Gladys for me."

And with that she left the lobby, lost in thought.

***

The warm water had felt good, massaging the deep ache in Buffy’s bones.

Feeling more relaxed, she crawled into her lumpy bed, happily snuggling under the covers after her long day. Just as she began to drift into the land of Morpheus, the banging, moaning, and screams of “Oh God! Yes! Fuck me!” started in earnest from the room next to hers.

Her eyes flew open. “Not again! God, do they never stop!” Buffy roughly stuck her head under the pillow, hoping to block the sound out, but could still hear the graphic vocalizations through the thin wall. She considered banging on the wall to get them to quiet down, but thought better of it, as she wanted to keep as low a profile as possible.

Bringing her head out from under the pillow, Buffy sucked in a deep breath and blew it out, causing a wisp of her hair to fly across her face. Realizing that sleep for the next couple of hours (at the very least) would be next to impossible, she peeled the covers back, rising from her lumpy bed. Switching on the old desk lamp, Buffy padded over to her bag, rummaging through until she found her journal. She freed the tattered fading tan leather book from her bag, as well as her beat up portable disc player to drown out the sounds of the amorous lovers.

Plopping down into the rickety chair, Buffy popped in one of the few CDs she carried with her: Nerf Herder. She put on her headphones, and hit 'play'. Out of the corner of her eye was the envelope resting on her desk. Vaguely, she noted it should be put away and to not forget to destroy it tomorrow.

Sighing, Buffy picked up her book, slumping back against the chair. A smile came to her face as she caressed the soft book cover. It had been a gift from her mother for her birthday, the last one they had spent together. Her mother had thought that writing down her emotions and feelings was a better outlet for her frustration than getting into trouble at school. At the time, Buffy had accepted it very unenthusiastically, thinking nothing could relieve her stress and worries. But as days went by and things became even worse, she found herself giving it a chance. And to her surprise, it did help.

Buffy began to always carry the book with her, feeling unreasonably better that it was there. It wasn’t a cure-all, but the book had become a friend that she could pour her heart out to without repercussion. The book had become a confidant, privy to the big secret which had caused her so much pain and heartache.

When Buffy had runaway from home, it was the only thing she kept. It was a long time-years even- before she went back to writing in it, instead preferring to read and re-read old passages. Now the tattered book was nearly full. Buffy knew she shouldn’t keep it; it was dangerous. But there was no way Buffy was giving it up.

Sitting upright, Buffy laid her book on the desktop, and once again began to pour her secrets into the book that in her mind, was the only friend she had left.

***

\---------------

From the Journal of Buffy Summers

January 19, 1999

Everyday I miss Mom more and more. I don’t have a photo of her, but I will never forget the look on her face right before I knocked her out. I wonder where she is? Does she even think about me?

If I close my eyes, I can still see Mr. Gordo on my bed, and my ice skates hanging on the closet door. I really miss him. His fur was always so soft. I could really go for a ‘Mr. Gordo hug’ right now.

I feel so tired anymore. Well, tired and stressed. I’ve never been a big one for sleep. Mom used to wonder where I got all my energy from. She was lucky if she got me to sleep more than 5 hours. I feel all pissy right now ‘cause I was actually feeling like I could really sleep tonight but as usual, my luck sucks. Fuck fest ’99 from the past two nights continues next door, and again, I ask myself: Why are hotel walls always so thin?

Maybe it’s just as well. I’m beginning to, if I really want to admit it, dread sleep anymore. As the time grows closer, the nightmares are getting worse. I keep waking up drenched in sweat. Not very attractive, I must tell you.

I almost lost the Slayer tonight. The Slayer would be dead right now if I hadn’t been there. Thank God, I stuck to my plan of keeping an eye on the Slayer and the witch.

Okay, okay. So, MAYBE seeing the little redheaded witch had something to do with it. Willow… I like her name. It’s sweet just like her.

I know, I know. I need to keep focused. That prick Travers knows about the prophecy. He’ll make sure the Slayer and the witch die tomorrow night. Can’t let that happen. I won’t.

Only two months to go. I can make it. I know it. What happens after that, well, I don’t think it matters anymore. I have no place to go. I have no one. If I’m lucky, I’ll die in the attempt.

I only know one thing: it all must end. And it will.

On March 21st at 5:58 am.

\--------------------

***

Faith was pissed.

Last night had scared the crap out of her. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to get Giles alone for a much needed chat until after school. And then, she had to wait for the gang to leave to grab him alone.

The Scoobies had all related the events from the previous night with Cordelia, occasionally adding in her own colorful remarks. The Slayer herself had said little during the report, sitting quietly in her usual chair at the table. She had noticed Willow sneaking glances her way every once in a while, and had chosen to ignore them. The redhead could always sense when things were bothering her. Faith had opened herself more up to Willow than anyone else, with the possible exception of Angel.

The meeting had ended at four; not soon enough for Faith. Neither Xander nor Cordelia had seemed anxious to stay. In fact, they had practically sprinted for the library doors. Faith had had an idea that a closet was about to be invaded.

Willow, though…Willow was another matter entirely. To persuade the redhead to leave had proven to be a daunting task. Faith had been able to tell Willow suspected something was awry, but had finally convinced her best friend Faith would feel better after a talk with Giles. The redhead had accepted that, though Faith could still see the lingering look of suspicion in her emerald green eyes. Shrugging her Snoopy backpack onto her shoulders, the young redhead had said goodbye, leaving Faith filled with guilt for holding out on her best friend who was like the sister she never had.

While her Watcher was fiddling in his office, the Slayer decided to test out her nagging suspicions surrounding the past few days. She went to the book cage, grabbing her practice knives from the weapons locker. Dragging her target into place, Faith began the ritual that usually made her relax. Now all it did was confirm one of her worst nightmares.

Unmoving, Faith stared at the fallen knives on the ground. Even before her calling, the brunette had more strength than she felt in her body right now. Giles kept telling her that it was stress, some kind of flu bug. On top of it all, she was throwing knives-

“Like a girl. You’re throwing knives like a girl.” Giles calmly bent down to pick up the knives that had bounced off of their intended target: a life-sized dartboard vampire. The Watcher straightened, taking in the sight of his upset Slayer, while pushing away the twinge of self-reproach he could feel forming on his face. Consciously, he put the mask back into place. “That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it? That you are throwing knives like a girl?”

Faith glared at him, feeling the emotional storm brewing within her. While fear, frustration, and anxiety were a part of this storm cloud, at the moment only one emotional came glaring through: anger.

She felt anger at herself; anger at the situation; and anger at his calmness, not to mention his sexist remark. “Look, G, just tell me what’s going on here. You’re supposed to know all the answers. That’s part of your job, right? Not just sitting on your ass, being all British and stuffy reading dusty old books?”

His Slayer’s defenses were up and the Watcher knew it. “I don’t know what to tell you, Faith.” Giles paused, seeing the look of murder in her eyes. A fleeting remembrance of the phrase if looks could kill popped into his mind. “It is flu season. I’m sure you’ll be fine by tomorrow. I re-iterate that stress can also play a major factor. It actually may be quite helpful to do some meditation exercises before you leave here. As patrol is taken care of, you can simply rest and relax tonight."

Faith still felt irritated with him, but overriding this was the need the Slayer had to tell her Watcher what really happened last night. “Can we go into your office, Giles? I got some stuff I gotta say about last night, and I don’t want anyone else listening in.”

His mask still in place, Giles nodded. “Certainly, Faith. Lead the way.”

Faith scowled at him for a moment, obviously still smarting from their previous conversation. Then she abruptly turned, covering the short distance quickly, minus her familiar swagger. Giles followed, his resolve faltering, wondering how much longer he could keep up the façade. Only knowing he was seeing Quentin tonight kept that commitment in place.

Once inside, he shut the door, effectively shutting out the rest of the world.

***

Giles’ entire body was a study in forbearance during Faith’s monologue.

The girl’s distress made it so he could barely look her in the eye anymore. Giles used every chance he received to clean his glasses in order to avoid eye contact.

Just like he was doing now.

Luckily for Giles, Faith was too absorbed in her tale to notice his lack of eye contact. The Slayer was sitting on his small couch, her leg bouncing up and down like a rubber ball.

“-so, ya know, I sorta thought no big deal,right? I mean, one less vamp for me to have to deal with. But hey, I’m the Slayer, so ya know I gotta make sure all is five by five, protect the innocents and all that. And while I was checking the place out…” Faith paused, seemingly lost in how to verbalize the stressful events of the previous night. Suddenly she stood up, startling Giles, and began to pace the limited space afforded from Giles’ office.

“Okay…so…anyways…like I said, I was lookin’ round, when all of a sudden…BAM! And before I knew it, I had a card-carrying member of the fang gang slamming me against a wall. I tried…I tried real hard, but I couldn’t push him away. I was so weak…I was…” Faith ran her fingers through her brunette hair in an aggravated fashion. Giles thought she bore a remarkable resemblance to a caged animal. And he certainly didn’t want to get too close to the cage, lest he get bit.

Giles rubbed his brow, about to speak when Faith continued. “Shit, Giles, I almost died. If it hadn’t been for…”

“For what?” Giles gently probed, his guilt washing over him like a wave.

“I don’t know what the fuck it was…human, I think…well, all I saw was a blur. Fang had given me a pretty hard hit, and I went smack down onto my ass. I knew he was comin’ for me. Hell, my vision was so fucked up, I thought I saw him and his twin bro! Just as he is about on me, he was gone, and this…thing…figure…whatever…raced past me, and next I hear the sound of a vamp getting his ass dusted.”

Giles came to full attention, rising from his lean on his desk. The Watcher’s interest was piqued. “A figure, you say?”

“Yeah…a figure...” Faith’s voice trailed off as she stopped pacing. The Slayer looked pleadingly into her Watcher’s eyes. “Giles, I almost died, I couldn’t sense the vamps, and now Xander can throw a knife better than I can! What’s happening to me, Giles?”

The Watcher looked fully at his Slayer, willing her to believe his next statement. “Faith, despite being the Slayer, you are human and well, these human qualities can lead to interference with your abilities.” Hoping he had successfully derailed any further questioning, he continued. “Now let’s do some relaxation exercises so you may leave and go rest.”

Faith stared at him for a moment, and he was afraid she was going to refuse. But she simply nodded as her shoulders slumped in defeat. Giles released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Excellent! Just sit down on the couch while I set-up the crystals.”

Faith grunted her assent, and sank back into the couch. She stared at the ceiling, and Giles wondered what was running through her mind. Keeping his eye on her, Giles reached in to pull the crystals from his bag. His eyes strayed to the hidden compartment that contained a small box alongside the crystals.

Giles carefully set them up before glancing at Faith, who still seemed lost in thought. Giles found himself absorbed in his own introspection, feeling intrigued by the figure Faith had mentioned seeing last night. Was Quentin having her followed? After all, the circumstances pointed to someone with the knowledge and strength to kill a vampire. If the figure wasn’t there on Quentin’s orders, then who was it really and why were they there?

Giles finished setting up the crystals and shook his head to clear his thoughts. He needed to have complete focus on the task ahead. The task needed to be done in a cold and clinical fashion, with no room left for emotional feelings.

Emotions could be dealt with after he injected the needle into his unknowing Slayer’s arm.

***

Giles wiped his feet on the porch mat, blatantly proclaiming "Welcome".

In disgust, Giles picked up the mat, rolling it up in his hands before knocking on one the Council safe house’s door. “Bloody morons,” he muttered. The door swung open to reveal a young man, dressed in a (what else?) tweed suit.

'My god, that is all we wear.'

“Mr. Giles, I-“ Giles brushed past the bespectacled young man in a brusque manner, annoyed at the whole situation. ”presume?”

“Here.” Giles roughly shoved the open mat into the young man’s hands, who stared at it in confusion. The Watcher felt keyed up, the impending talk with Quentin Travers bothering him more than he cared to admit. “You might want to put up a ward, as you have obviously just given all vampires an invite into this house.”

The young man started. “What?”

Giles pointed at the welcome mat wordlessly.

His eyes went wide. “OH!”

“Where’s Quentin?” Giles stole a glance at the living room from the entranceway. The room was elaborately furnished, the furniture no doubt carrying a high price tag.

“I’ll take you to him, Mr. Giles. Right this way.” The young man led Giles down a long hallway to a cracked door with a small amount of light peeking through.

The bespectacled young tweed clone knocked on his master’s door. “Mr. Travers? Sir?”

“Come in, Charles," Travers beckoned, with his crisp British accent coming through loud and clear.

Charles opened the door with a bit of trepidation, Giles thought. “Mr. Giles is here to see you, sir.”

“Ah, excellent, excellent. Please show him in.”

The young man stepped aside as Giles entered into an equally well-furnished study. Giles’s eyes roamed across the numerous antiques, including the oak desk and Ming dynasty vases. But what really caught his eye was the scepter standing next to Quentin’s desk. Drawing himself to attention, he forced a smile. “Quentin.”

“Rupert.” Travers appeared quite unruffled, sitting at his desk, sipping tea. “Sit down, sit down.” He motioned toward the armchair in front of his desk.

Tugging up his slacks, Giles sank down into the cushioned leather.

Travers immediately became the gracious host. “A spot of tea for you? It just so happens that I frequently keep a hot teapot and extra cups at my disposal."

“Ah, that would be lovely, thank you.” The familiar British tea ritual helped to calm the Giles's anxieties.

Travers rose and removed an extra cup from his cupboard. Grasping the teapot, he poured hot tea inside. “Here you are.” He stepped over, presenting Giles his tea.

“Cheers, Quentin.” Giles accepted the proffered cup, as Travers perched on the front edge of his desk. His smug expression annoyed Giles. He fleetingly wondered if he was going to get anywhere with this man.

The Watcher sipped his tea, wincing at how hot it was. Feeling some enigmatic pull, his eyes strayed to the scepter again, strangely fascinated with it. Standing around four to five feet high, the wooden scepter had a forked top and a tripod base, and from what Giles could discern, was an authentic artifact.

Following the Watcher's line of sight, Travers confirmed Giles’ thoughts. “An archeologist acquaintance of mine found it on a dig in Egypt, and presented it to me a couple of years back as a birthday gift. I have a certain…fascination with Egyptian artifacts.”

Giles turned his attention back to Travers, whom he noticed had a certain glint in his eye. What that glint was, Giles couldn’t imagine at the moment. “It’s a Was, is it not?”

“Yes, it is. Are you familiar with the history of the piece?”

Giles searched his seemingly limitless academic memory. “I believe it was used by Egyptian gods, priests, and pharaohs as a symbol of power. Later in history, it was thought to keep the Desert god Set under control.”

“Quite right. I’m not sure you’re aware, but Set was also the ruler of chaos.” Travers paused. “Chaos needs to be controlled, don’t you agree?”

Giles felt oddly discomfited at the look Travers was sending him, and tried for non-comital in his answer. “I suppose.”

“It's not a matter of supposing, Mister Giles; it is a given.”

Becoming increasingly uncomfortable, Giles decided it best to give the expected answer. “Um, yes, of course.”

“Of course,” Travers echoed. “Now, let’s get down to business, shall we?”

Shifting a bit in his chair, Giles replied, “Certainly.”

“I trust the Slayer is sufficiently disabled for Cruciamentum tomorrow night?”

Giles took the question for what it was: a statement of fact. “Yes, yes, she is…” He trailed off.

Travers smiled in satisfaction. “Good, good. Now, please have the Slayer here by seven tomorrow evening. Everything-“

Giles cut him off. “Quentin, I must press upon you the ramifications of what you are you doing with this test."

Travers frowned. “We, Rupert, we. You are a member of this Council, and, as such, are also responsible. Remember that fact.”

“It is completely immoral.” Giles placed his teacup on the desk. “I beg of you to reconsider this. Faith has proven time and time again that she is a more than a capable Slayer. You do not need this act of barbarity to prove this.”

The Head of the Council’s frown deepened. “Rupert, this test has been done for centuries should the Slayer live to her 18th birthday. It is not an act of barbarity. The test is essential to test the Slayer’s ability to use her intellect instead of just relying on her strength. It is a situation that the Slayer could face and she must be prepared in the event it occurs.”

Giles did his best to reign in his frustration but the act was proving to be more and more difficult. The worst of it was he couldn't decide if it was his own lack of moral courage or the lack of morality on the part of the man in front of him that frustrated him more.

“Quentin-“

Travers interrupted. “You’re duties are clear here, Rupert. You answer to no one but the Council.” The man radiated arrogance. “If you do not act accordingly, I can have a new Watcher here by the end of next week.”

Gaping at Travers, Giles wondered how he could have followed the Council’s directives so blindly. This was the exact moment, as Giles would recollect later, when the moral struggle inside of him ceased. The Watcher vowed to protect his Slayer in any way possible, and that included telling her the truth.

But he mustn't let Travers know that.

Nodding, Giles made sure his demeanor came across as submissive, bowing to Travers’ will. “I will adhere to the Council’s authority on this matter.”

Travers' smile was smug, the obvious indication in his belief of victory at hand. “Excellent! You’ll see how this is for the best, Rupert. Slayers face unimaginable evil, and need all the preparation they can receive. Now, let’s go over the rest of the plans for tomorrow evening.”

As they went over the details for the Cruciamentum, Giles finally recognized the glint in Quentin’s eyes for what it was: the intoxication of power.

***

Travers leaned back in his chair, a relaxed smile playing on his lips.

He now knew he had complete control over the situation. Travers felt giddy with anticipation over tomorrow night’s events. The worry over Rupert Giles was rectified tonight; he had no doubt his plans would come to fruition.

Reaching under his desk, Travers unlocked the secret compartment. Carefully, he reached in and pulled out a soft, leather book. Setting the book on his desk, he caressed the book like a greedy lover. Travers opened the book, and picked up the ink pen from his desktop.

As Travers wrote in his journal, he knew his triumph was complete.


	5. Beyond Reproach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Faith's Cruciamentum nears, Willow's brain is in overdrive trying to make sense of her sexuality, what's wrong with Faith, Giles's strange behavior, and her own inadequacies. Meanwhile, Buffy is focused on keeping the slayer and the witch alive while Giles breaks down and confesses to Faith what is really going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buffy's journal entry is separated by ----------------.
> 
> Watcher's Council Special Ops soldiers Smith and Brown are male OCs. I picked very generic last names because that is how the Council sees them: non-entities and disposable instead of the individuals they are. Like red shirts.

Faith made her way to her locker on autopilot, lost in thought.

So far, her birthday had gone all right. Her mother was out of town for a week, but had actually called her to wish her a happy birthday. And surprisingly enough, her pop quiz had even went well. The even bigger plus: not waking up in bed after losing your virginity, alone, only to find the one you love transform into a monster who crushes your heart into a million tiny pieces.

So, she should be happy. Right?

Sure, the Slayer felt unease about her loss of strength. Maybe it was the flu, like Giles said. Right?

Who was she kidding. It didn’t feel anything like the flu. Giles had to have been wrong. But Giles was never wrong. Faith could tell her only father figure was holding something back on her.

Just like she was doing with her best friend.

And that scared Faith more than anything.

***

\--------------------

From the Journal of Buffy Summers

January 21, 1999

Well, today is the day. This is it. The Big Enchilada. All right, scratch that. Not the BIG Enchilada. I guess the SMALL Enchilada would sound better. After all, today I just need to keep them alive. It’s really all about March 21st. Hey, a girl’s gotta have some perspective here.

“Fawkes” sent me a “letter” the other day. Notice the quotation marks. He really needs to get a grip on his reality. Stealthy is of the good, insane scavenger hunts are not. All I got was a piece of paper with the words “Order of the Phoenix” written on it. Fortunately for me, I understood what the hell he was trying to tell me.

Unfortunately for me, the letter led me to a place with another stupid Harry Potter clue, which led me to another place with another clue, which led me… you get the idea. Whatever. I got what I needed, so I guess Mister “I’ve read too much Harry Potter for my own good” did the job okay.

I know the Watcher is gonna tell the Slayer the truth. I could tell when he left the safe house last night. He’s definitely so over it. Which of course, means that he is gonna get fired. And naturally, that leads to me.

Two years of Watcher’s training better be good enough. I could never pull off the tweed, though. My stupid conservative wardrobe is waiting for me, but I’m gonna miss my leathers. A dry cleaners is fixing them as we speak. After all, I refuse to give them up. I’ll stash ‘em some place. I’ll probably cave in and wear them at least once, but hopefully people won’t pay much attention.

Okay, gotta stop here. Need to focus, and get ready. Merrick actually managed to get me to learn some meditation techniques that I use to this day. I think Merrick would actually be proud of that. More than at any other time, I need to put practice into action.

Buffy stopped writing, sitting back to re-read her entry. She picked her pen back up, adding one more thing.

I miss you, Merrick. You, and that damn overcoat.

\--------------------

Standing up, Buffy tucked the book away into her leather jacket. Meditation or weapons first? She only gave it a brief thought, though. Buffy knew herself well enough to know that she wouldn’t be able to start meditating until she had all her gear stowed away, ready for battle.

Grabbing her keys, Buffy headed for the hidden cave deep in the forest on the outskirts of Sunnydale.

***

“Hey!”

“Eep!” Willow’s eyes went wide with surprise as she realized she had just accidently hit her childhood friend with her already too full backpack. Ms. Gellar’s World History class had just ended, with lunch on the immediate horizon. The redhead had come out of class distracted, her little brain working furiously on many levels. Too many questions milled around regarding Giles and the Slayer, Faith’s birthday today, and last but not least, Oz’s band was playing at the Bronze that night at, to what Xander referred to as, ” Faith’s Festive Bronzin’ Birthday Bonanza.”

She tried to ignore the thoughts about Ms. Gellar, and the lusty wrong feelings that she was having for her female teacher.

“Is that anyway to treat your bestest bud, Wills?” Xander was pouting, but Willow wasn’t buying it. Besides, she really wanted to talk with him before Faith showed up. And that could be at any minute.

Willow smacked Xander playfully on the arm. “Xander, you know I didn’t mean it that way. I was distracted. You know how busy my head gets sometimes.”

“Thank God for that, Will. I never would have made it through most of my classes otherwise.”

Willow rolled her eyes as they began to walk towards their lockers. “Whatever, Xan. You’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

Xander just shrugged. “So, what’s the up? I mean, your head seems to be even more busy than usual.”

Sobering, Willow abruptly stopped. “Actually, there are some things I wanted to discuss with you before Faith gets here.”

“Like the way you drool over Ms. Gellar?”

Xander's mischievous grin simultaneously irritated and embarrassed Willow. Turning beet red, Willow dragged Xander to a side corner, hissing, “I do not drool over Ms. Gellar any more than anyone else!”

Saying nothing, Xander simply crossed his arms and gave a knowing smirk flustering Willow.

“Oh! Not that I drool over her at all…I mean, she’s a girl…I’m a girl…and it’s not like I’m gay! Hello! Oz!” She was practically hyperventilating at this point.

“Will, it’s okay if you’re gay, you know. Besides,” he continued, smirking, ”that will just help to fuel my already frequent fantasies about the very sultry Ms. Gellar.”

“I didn’t mean that being gay is bad, I…”

“Okay, okay, you’re off the hook, Wills.” They left the corner, walking to their lockers again. “So, again, I ask, what’s the up?”

Brow furrowing, Willow voiced her major concern. “Well, mostly I’m worried about Faith, I guess.”

Xander slung his arm around his best friend. “Don’t worry, Will. Everything is muy bueno. No evil vampire boyfriend, no Apocalypses, no patrolling. I’d say that’s three big pluses in the happy Slayer birthday column.”

Willow was unconvinced. “But, Xander, haven’t you noticed how tired she seems lately? Couldn’t you tell how shaken up she was the other night from fighting one vamp?”

Xander did his best ostrich in the sand impression. “Come on, Wills. There is a flu bug going around. She didn’t seem too bad yesterday, right?”

Willow was frustrated with her oldest friend. Sometimes he was so oblivious, it was ridiculous, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it was more denial, than cluelessness. “Faith’s hiding something from me, Xander, I can tell. And I think Giles has something to do with it.”

Xander looked surprised at this comment, and was about to respond when the subject of their discussion came into view.

***

As Faith approached her two closest friends, she immediately became suspicious.

The two Scoobies upon seeing her, abruptly halted their conversation, harboring guilty looks on their faces. Willow went so far as to fiddle with her Snoopy book bag, something she usually only did when she was very nervous.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Faith greeted them warily. The look of panic on Willow’s face, not to mention her launch into babble mode made Faith even more suspicious.

“Faith! I just had to get my lunch from my locker…you know, where I always keep my lunch…when I bring it, that is…Sometimes, I buy it from the cafeteria, but definitely not when they serve macaroni and cheese cuz…eww…crusty…overcooked, known to lead to food poisoning-“

Xander nonchalantly interrupted. “We are simply waiting for a certain birthday Vampire Slayer to join us in that time-honored ritual of the consumption of fatty goodness, otherwise known as lunch.” Xander gave a mock thoughtful look. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen her, have you? She’s about yea tall,” he held up his hand, indicating her height, “likes to wear lots of leather, has a certain flair for weapons, and can stake a mean vampire from 50 yards away?”

Faith could tell that she had intruded upon a secret conversation between the two. Knowing Willow, Faith herself was most likely the topic of conversation as the redhead was always in a state of worry. Faith decided to let it go for now.

Grinning, Faith played along with Xander’s game. “Yeah, I might have seen her. I hear she’s very sexy, and can dust a vamp 100 yards away, not just 50.”

The brunette boy smiled. “Gee, Faithy, feeling a little cocky today, are we?”

“Always, Xan, always.” Faith allowed herself to relax a bit, watching Willow open her locker to grab her lunch bag.

“Harris! Lehane! Rosenberg!”

A small man, bearing a remarkable resemblance to a troll, zeroed in on his target. Panicking, Willow quickly shut her locker, while Xander and Faith tried to look nonchalant.

“Why are you three hovering around Rosenberg’s locker?” Troll Man, otherwise known as Principal Snyder, snuck a peak around Willow, sniffing the air. “What are you hiding?”

Faith decided to cut Willow babble off at the pass, slightly concerned over what might spring forth from the already nervous redhead. “Willow here was just getting out her lunch, Principal Snyder.” Faith pointed to the bag in the redhead’s hand, which Willow held up for emphasis.

“It doesn’t take three people to get one person’s lunch.” Snyder narrowed his eyes before turning to Faith. “No matter. Lehane, you’re just the juvenile delinquent I’ve been looking for. Come with me to my office.”

“What for? I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s what they all say. I happen to have it on very good authority that you were illegally on this campus last Sunday night.” Before she could reply, he continued. “And, I might add, it just so happens that Monday morning, one of the windows in the chemistry lab was broken. Sound familiar?”

“No," Faith lied. That particular night she had chased a couple of unruly vamps into the school, where a knockout drawn out fight occurred. Much to the Slayer’s chagrin, one vampire did manage to leave a crack in a window. She hoped the crack would go unnoticed. No such luck apparently. So she went for the feigned denial. Obviously, it wasn’t working.

“It doesn’t matter what you say, Lehane, I’ve got you. I myself am leaning towards suspension.” He smiled evilly.

“See ya later, guys.” Faith looked morosely over at Willow and Xander. Faith knew they were aware of the story behind the night’s events. If it came down to it, they had all agreed on plausible denial, as the Slayer had made it clear that she didn’t want two Scoobs involved. Period. Reluctantly, Willow and Xander had sworn to stay silent.

But Willow of course tried anyways.

“But, Principal Snyder…um…I heard it was just a scratch, and…you know…scratches can come from lots of stuff …like plant branches…cause plant branches do scratch…Once I was scratched so bad by a rose bush that I got an infection! So-"

Snyder interrupted the redhead’s babble. “It was not a scratch, Miss Rosenberg. The window was broken, and may have to be replaced.” He looked over to Faith. “Move it. Now, Lehane.”

Faith left her friends, feeling that this was just the beginning of another bad birthday.

***

“Remember to keep the Slayer there until 6:45, Rupert. I want everything set up properly by the time she arrives.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, Quentin. She’s…ah…staying after school today to participate in a school project.” Giles refrained from saying that his Slayer was in detention, vaguely remembering that this was the 4th time in the past month.

“Excellent. Goodbye Rupert.”

Giles heard the smugness in Travers’ voice, and had to force himself to sound compliant. “Goodbye Quentin.”

Hanging up the phone, Giles felt Ripper emerging as he slammed his fist down onto the desk.

***

Sunnydale was shrouded in dusk, signaling its residents that it was time to go inside to avoid the monsters that came out only at night.

Although some residents remained happily oblivious to Sunnydale’s undead residents, others had a vague sense that it was wise to err on the side of caution. However, people forgot to take into account that the guise of evil is human as well.

Smith and Brown parked their unmarked black van on a street in front of a typical suburban house, determined to fulfill their objective: secure Willow Rosenberg and bring her to the Council’s safe house. Failure was not an option; their superior had made that abundantly clear. And their superior was known to be an extremely unforgiving individual.

From his vantage point, Smith was still able to use his small binoculars to check on the upstairs bedroom. The light was still on and the subject continued to move back and forth throughout the room, which satisfied Smith. He glanced at his wristwatch, noting the time. They were right on schedule. “The area seems secure.” Brown nodded. “Let’s move.”

They climbed out of the van stealthily into the quiet, seemingly deserted neighborhood. Smith motioned to Brown, and they casually began to stroll down the street, seemingly to be no more than two college boys, carrying their school backpacks. Making sure to keep out of sight of their target, they eventually came upon the house. Checking again their target’s position and the status of the oblivious neighborhood, Smith felt confidant. Carefully, they made their way to the backyard.

Shrouded in trees, the backyard gate was trouble-free as the latch easily gave way on a slight tug. Upon entering the backyard, Smith and Brown set down their backpacks, and proceeded to unzip them. They each pulled out their black masks from their respective bags, slipping the masks over their heads. Next, Smith knelt down to unload a small metal case and unlocked it. In a meticulous fashion, he began to assemble the parts inside the case.

Finishing his task, Smith stood, tucking the completed object inside his black flight jacket. Glancing at Brown, he gestured towards the house. They snuck up to the backdoor, and Smith gingerly tried the handle. Locked. He had expected that. Motioning to Brown, the other agent took out a small case from his pocket, using one of the tools to jimmy the door open.

It took all of five seconds.

Smith smirked, one thought crossing his mind.

'This is going to be easy.'

***

Willow stared at herself in the full-length mirror.

She didn’t like what she saw.

But then, she never did.

Willow frowned at her reflection. No wonder Oz left. Why would he want to stay with a geek like me? Then she immediately chastised herself. That’s not why, and you know it. It’s your own fault. After years of lusting after Xander, he actually paid attention to you, and you went crazy. Boyfriend be damned.

The redhead sighed, picked up her hairbrush, and began to stroke her fiery red locks.

So involved in her thoughts was she, that she was never even aware of the two men sneaking up the stairs.

***

Ripper was so busy beating the hell out of the small punching bag he had set up for Faith in the book cage that he didn’t even notice Faith’s arrival.

That is, not until Faith stepped right in front of him.

“Working out a little aggression there, G-man?” Faith had an amused look on her face as she stopped the swinging bag.

Giles stood there for a moment, feeling the sweat on his brow nearly running into his eyes. He took out his spare handkerchief from his pants pocket to wipe the excess.

“Faith, ah, I’m afraid I lost track of time.” He stepped past her, out of the cage, to where his suit jacket was draped over one of the library chairs next to the table. Reaching into a jacket pocket, Giles withdrew his glasses, putting them on.

Faith surveyed her Watcher as he rolled down his sleeves, wondering what had caused him to be so upset that Ripper was showing signs of emerging. Normally, she would be curious. But today, she just really wanted to get away from school, and to get away from Giles. Faith didn’t want to deal with any Slayer stuff at the moment. It just felt like too much. All Faith wanted was to hang out with her friends and be like any other teenage girl turning eighteen. And Giles certainly wasn’t making it any easier.

“Alright, Giles, I’m here. Let’s hurry up. I got better stuff to do than this.” Faith knew she sounded rude, but couldn’t seem to bring herself to care at the moment.

Giles picked up his jacket from the chair, reverting back to his usual stuffy British self. “Faith, can you please come with me into my office?” Faith rolled her eyes. “It will only take a moment.”

Impatiently, Faith made her way to Giles’ office, consciously ignoring the anvil she was sure was about to drop.

***

The tingle at the back of Willow’s mind gave her pause.

Her hand broke off midway through brushing her hair. Willow cocked her head, as if trying to capture another sensation.

During the last few weeks, she had noticed her sense of awareness sharpen. Willow was always more in tune with her surroundings than the clueless Xander, but lately it grew stronger. This time she knew the sensation was an indicative warning, and she suddenly wished Faith was there.

The young redhead laid her hairbrush on her desk, pivoting towards the cracked bedroom door. Willow gulped as the sensation returned, wondering if a vampire was coming to get her. She immediately nixed that idea, realizing its absurdity.

'A vampire needs an invite, you dope!'

Somehow, though, this thought did little in ways of reassurance. Willow’s scientific, fact-finding mind deserted her in the midst of chaotic rampant scenarios involving vampires, demons, Hannibal Lector…

'Should I call someone? Faith? Xander? No, no…I’m a badass Wicca! I don’t need anybody to help me look outside my bedroom door. I flame broiled vampires with Faith, after all!'

Sucking in a deep breath for courage, Willow tentatively stepped towards the slightly opened door. After only a few paces, she came to a standstill, listening as intently as she could. Willow thought she could hear the faintest sound of the scrape of a shoe on her parent’s hallway rug. Just as the warning tingle became a full out blaring alarm, the door abruptly opened, showcasing two very human masked men.

Everything happened so fast. Willow’s face was a mask of shock, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as the tranquilizer dart shot into her chest.

The girl slid to the floor, falling into an abyss of oblivion.

***

“It’s a test, Faith.”

Slumping down against his desk, Giles crossed his arms with an air of resignation. “It’s given to the Slayer once she…uh, well, if she reaches her eighteenth birthday. The Slayer is disabled and then entrapped with a vampire foe whom she must defeat in order to pass the test.”

Faith stared at Giles in shock and disbelief, unable to fully comprehend what her Watcher had just confessed to her. The man she had come to regard as a surrogate father figure had betrayed her; had knowingly drugged her to suppress her Slayer powers which could have led to her death, or worse, turning.

Suddenly Faith shot up off of Giles’ small office couch. She began pacing in an aggravated manner while Giles watched her from the perch on his desk. Abruptly halting, Faith turned to face Giles, shaking her head to clear it. “Excuse me, Giles, did I just hear you say that you put needles in my arm without my knowledge to make me like any other girl for some fuckin’ Council test?! ‘Cuz, ya know, I must not have heard right, because the Giles I know would never do something like that to me!”

At this point, Giles had his glasses off, dangling in his hand, while he rubbed his lowered brow.

“Giles! Giles!” Faith practically screamed. “Giles! Look at me!” Giles head snapped up, standing up straight from his lean against his desk. “Is this true?”

The Watcher put his glasses on, looking her directly in the eye. “Faith, you have to believe me when I say I never would have let anything happen to you during the test. I had planned on following you into the safe house-“

“You bastard. All this time you saw what it was doing to me. All this time, and you didn’t say a word!” Faith felt like her world was falling apart.

“Faith, my duties to the Council were clear in this matter. As your Watcher, it was required. You have to understand.” Giles voice grew soft, laced with guilt. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Fuck the fuckin’ Council, Giles!”

Giles’ voice became firmer. “Faith, if I hadn’t, they simply would have fired me as your Watcher, and sent another Watcher in my place. The new Watcher would not have hesitated to perform this test. They would have followed Quentin’s orders to the letter, not even weighing the moral consequences.” Giles rose and placed his hands on his Slayer’s shoulders, looking her deep in the eye. “If you had survived the test, they would have ended your association with Willow and Xander.” He stopped, sighed, and loosened his grip on her shoulders. “If this happened, you probably wouldn’t last more than six months, if that. I am perfectly well aware of how valuable Xander and Willow are to you, and I realize that they are part of the reason that you have survived as long as you have.” Giles fully released her, and took a step back.

The teenage girl turned away from her surrogate father, wiping her face.

She had never cried in front of him, and she wasn’t about to now.

***

Xander checked his watch for the fifteenth time in fifteen minutes.

“Xander.”

Xander was tapping his watch, thinking that it must be not working properly. After all, Willow was never late, especially half an hour late.

They had all agreed to meet at the Bronze by 6:00 to prep the place for Faith’s birthday party before the crowds showed up. Xander brought party hats, noisemakers, and balloons, while Willow was bringing streamers. The plan was to snag their usual lounging area, decorating it for maximum birthday goodness. While the party wasn’t a surprise, Willow and Xander were hoping to replace the bad memories of last year by making fun new ones.

“Xander! Hello! Earth to Xander!” A familiar, very pissed off, female voice interrupted his worrying.

Xander looked up from his fruitless battle with his wristwatch, feeling a bit sheepish for ignoring his girlfriend for the past twenty minutes. “Sorry, Cordy. I’m just worried, that’s all. I mean, you know how our little redhead is: dependable, reliable Willow.”

“Xander, I believe dependable and reliable mean the same thing. Hence, oxymoron.” Oz spoke up in his usual calm, laconic manner.

Xander glanced at Oz. It was still a bit awkward between them, but he was glad the Dingoes’ guitarist had decided to join them in between sessions. He knew Oz had always been grateful to the Slayer, ever since she had saved him from the werewolf hunter.

Cordelia looked exasperated. “Xander, just call her house. You’re not going to feel better until you do. And frankly, neither will I, since you’ve been ignoring me all night. Besides, she’s probably trying to find the one item in her closet that would not be constituted as geek wear.”

“You’re right, Cordy.” Xander smiled and kissed her cheek, leaving Cordelia just sitting there with a stunned look on her face. Then the stunned look turned into one of suspicion.

“Okay, Xander Harris, what’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch.” Cordelia raised an eyebrow. ”Okay, there is one,” he amended. “Try to get along with Wills when she gets here, okay?”

With a dramatic sigh, Cordelia said, “Fine. I’ll make nice.”

A sense of relief washed over Xander as Cordelia relented, albeit reluctantly. The solace however, didn’t last long as he suddenly remembered his previous anxiety. “Can I-“

“Here.” Cordelia reached into her purse and handed Xander her cell phone.

Xander smiled his thanks as Cordelia shooed him off. “I’ll be right back.” He rose from his seat on the couch and made his way towards the exit. The male Scoob couldn’t shake the feeling that Willow was in trouble. Arriving at the club door, he slipped out into the recently fallen night, and withdrew Cordelia’s cell from his pants pocket. Xander punched Willow’s home phone number into the cell with a feeling of trepidation.

'Where are you, Will?'

***

Faith sensed Giles reaching out to her, which only made her anger worse.

Not wanting his comfort, she was grateful to hear the phone ring. With her back still to him, Faith heard Giles answer the phone.

“Erm, yes, hello, Rupert Giles speaking.” Giles paused “No, Willow’s not here. Have you tried her house?”

Faith’s head whipped around at this, her tears instantly drying.

Was Willow in trouble?

***

“Well, I’m sure she’s fine, Xander. Perhaps she’s on her way now.”

Giles initially felt irritated at the boy's interruption, assuming it was some innocuous teenage miscommunication and wondering why it was imperative that they call him about it.

“Xander, try not to sound so alarmed. Yes, I have Cordelia’s cell phone number. I will call you if we do indeed hear from her.” Suddenly something began to tug at his senses, and he became concerned this was more than an innocuous teenage dilemma.

“Your welcome. Goodbye, Xander.” Giles hung up, standing stock-still, and stared at the phone. Giles prayed that his misgivings were not true. If they were…

“Giles, what is it? Is Willow in trouble?” Faith’s apprehension brought Giles back to reality. He slowly pivoted around to face his Slayer, knowing how difficult it would be for Faith to hear what he was about to tell her.

“Yes, Faith, I fear she is very much in trouble.”


	6. What's Hidden Below The Surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith and Giles deduce Willow has been kidnapped by Travers, and know Faith must go ahead with the test to save Willow. Unknown to them, an invisible Buffy is there to watch over Willow, made possible through a glamour. Buffy knows the test must play itself out, even though she abhors the thought of it. Travers wants answers, and he is willing to do anything to get them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /// indicate flashback
> 
> So by now, you realize Buffy is a Slayer. She had been living in Los Angeles, and through circumstances I will discuss in the next story, she was purposely killed for a very brief time so that another Slayer would be called for Sunnydale. Only a few people even know of Buffy's existence, and certainly not Travers, whom she does not want to know. Buffy is there to make sure The Phoenix Prophecy is fulfilled, and for certain reasons revealed later, revenge. Travers is very evil. 
> 
> Differently stories have tackled the distinction between Slayer and girl in varying ways. I always liked the Slayer being more present, with the distinction between Buffy the girl and the Slayer very obvious. In The season four episode "Primeval", we see Buffy's eyes go amber as she harnesses the power of the Slayer lineage. I am having Buffy's eyes go amber as her own Slayer comes to the surface. It will happen when the Slayer is upset or angry or during battle. It happens especially when Willow is around because the Slayer already feels protective of Willow and cares deeply for her.

Tucked away in the shadows, Buffy Summers kept a silent vigil over a young redheaded witch named Willow Rosenberg.

Buffy’s timetable set for the night’s events afforded this. When the time came closer to the arrival of the Slayer, she would move. But now…now she waited, watching over the redheaded girl who had stolen her heart.

Since the drugged redhead had been taken down here to the Council safe house’s basement and securely tied up, Willow had been left alone. Travers had seemed satisfied that the young witch was unable to break the bonds, and would not awaken. He and his soldiers had retreated upstairs. But Buffy knew that they would return to check on Willow before the test began.

As Buffy kept her vigil, her mind replayed the events of the evening, and she felt as though she was living them all over again.

//// 'Invisibility is sooo underrated.'

After an intense meditation exercise in the hideaway cave deep in Sunnydale’s forest, Buffy strapped the necessary weapons to different parts of her body, threw on her black leather jacket, geared up in both weapons and mind set. Upon using the glamour spell learned from a witch she had met years previously, she headed towards the secluded Council safe house on the edge of town, ready to protect the Slayer and the witch with every fiber of her being.

Buffy had always loved the freedom and power a glamour gave her. But experience and determination reminded her not to get lost in these sensations. So she only allowed herself a brief moment of enjoyment at being able to walk down the sidewalk out in the open daylight, loaded for bear.

As she approached the rundown two-story house, she thought back to her previous stakeouts, mentally running over the knowledge gained from these encounters, as well as from her own research.

One: The amount of men placed on detail for the running of the test was in question. There were two for certain; Jones and Brown. Another named Smith seemed to come and go but Buffy was unsure if he would be at the house during the test. The Council safe house was supposed to be guarded by the Council’s top men: the Special Operations Unit. The official version stated that these men went through rigorous training in “boot camp” and even participated in field exercises with British Army Special Forces.

Second: At least one soldier was ordered to stand guard over the Slayer’s vampire foe at all times, with the soldiers rotating. The soldier not on guard duty would usually only be in their shared bedroom or kitchen, both located on the 1st floor. Smith was an unknown variable. If he was present during the test, how much trouble would he cause?

Third: They were holding the vampire in one of the downstairs rooms, and the vampire foe picked for the test was an extremely dangerous, psychotic vampire named Kralik. As a human, he had been a serial killer of women and was turned while serving time in prison. Not only was he kept in the box under lock and key, Kralik was also in a strait jacket. The only time the box was opened was for his daily feeding of blood in a cup sipped through a straw. Even the two big, burly soldiers were afraid of him, as each complained bitterly and fearfully at being the one on guard duty of the psychotic vampire.

Fourth: Buffy had been able to find the best entrance to the rickety old house to suit her purposes. For all appearances, the house seemed to be abandoned. Downstairs, all of the entrances barring the front door, was completely boarded up. On the upstairs level, only heavy curtains blocked the windows; perhaps to be able to scan the perimeter easier, she wasn’t sure. But Buffy knew, except for the three patrols in the early morning, dusk and one in the middle of the night, the upper portion of the house was rarely visited.

Fifth: Buffy knew Travers’s timetable. The Slayer was to be delivered to the house between 7 and 7:30 by the Watcher, who had been instructed to call Travers upon leaving the library. At this point, Kralik would be released into the “field of play”, as Travers termed it, under “controlled” conditions. Travers had told the Watcher that the house was fortified enough, so that Kralik could not leave it. The Special Ops detail would keep an eye on things, with a tranquilizer gun ready to restrain Kralik should things get out of control and/or at the conclusion of the test.

And finally the last bit of knowledge that Buffy had gained: Travers had planned on kidnapping the young witch.

He had done it on the pretext of using the witch as an incentive for the Slayer to come to the house. Travers knew that the Slayer would do anything to rescue the young redheaded witch. At least, that’s what was the official version behind the kidnapping. No one but Buffy knew the truth. Travers kidnapped the witch to erase any remaining perceived threats.

In other words, Travers brought her there to die.

This thought made the warrior inside Buffy growl, her eyes flashing an amber hue.

Questions would never be raised, as the witch would simply be seen as a necessary civilian causality in the Slayer’s preparation as the ultimate warrior in the continued war between good and evil. Buffy had suspected that Travers had hoped that the Slayer would die as well. After all, a new Slayer could be brought under complete Council control. The present Slayer was seen as a renegade, an uncontrollable variable posing too high of a risk factor for the Council and their guidelines. For Travers, a renegade Slayer could threaten his position within the council, as well as his own personal objectives. But the witch, Buffy knew, meant his ultimate downfall. So right now, Travers had only one specific goal in mind.

Kill the witch, and kill her now.

Buffy shook her reverie away, as the house came into view. She stole a brief glance at her watch: 5 p.m. and adjusted the black nylon rope swung around her shoulders.

Despite the young blonde’s notorious lack of patience, she had come early to the house, wanting the extra time to make sure things went down exactly as predicted.

There was one thing Buffy didn’t believe in: coincidences.

It turned out to be wise that she didn’t.

Upon arrival at the house, the tiny blonde stealthily staked out the area. Everything seemed quiet and undisturbed, so Buffy headed across the street for the time being.

'Almost like the calm before the storm.'

Despite being hidden by the glamour, Buffy wanted to leave nothing to chance. She settled snugly into some bushes where she still had a good view of the house. As previous patterns indicated, at dusk, one of the soldiers would do a perimeter patrol. Once that was out of the way, Buffy would put the rest of her plan into action.

As dusk came and went, Buffy grew restless. The tiny blonde had expected Travers to keep to a similar pattern until closer to the time the Slayer was to arrive. As Buffy mentally debated with herself over the pros and cons of beginning to put her plan into action, a black van drove into the driveway. The tinted windows of the van made it almost impossible to see inside, but Buffy was able to discern that two men were in the front seat. Maintaining a keen eye, Buffy watched the garage door open, the black van driven inside with the door closing behind.

This confused her a bit. Although Buffy had been aware of the young witch’s kidnapping, her information on all of the specifics had been spotty at best. All the blonde really knew was that the redhead would be kidnapped sometime before the test and tied up in the basement. How, Buffy wasn’t certain. It had seemed probable that the black van held the kidnapped girl, but why were two men involved? Buffy knew Travers would never leave Kralik completely unguarded. If the second man stayed, that added another variable to the mix. Buffy found herself swearing at this thought, while at the same time grudgingly acknowledging to herself that patience really IS a useful virtue.

Deciding to take advantage of the soldiers being pre-occupied with the kidnapped young redhead, Buffy began to put her plan into motion. Leaving the cover of the bushes, she was more than grateful for the effect of the glamour. It made everything so much easier in an already difficult and dangerous mission.

The lithe blonde quickly crossed the street, heading for the large oak tree near the back of the house. The area around the house was so thick in foliage that she was confident no one would notice anything unusual.

'Time to be all James Bond-y,' she thought with a mental giggle.

Glancing around her one last time, the strong tiny blond began to scale the tree. Having done it before in a previous stakeout, the tree presented no difficulty. Buffy swiftly jumped the couple of feet onto the roof, landing with the grace of a cat. The agile blond lightly and carefully stepped a few feet to reach the apex of the roof. Lying down, she positioned herself so she could slowly let herself drop upside down to right above the attic window.

Pausing, she listened for any sounds of life coming from the attic. Satisfied that it was indeed empty, Buffy reached into her right lower black cargo pant’s pocket. Pulling out a small tool to jimmy the lock, she lowered herself a little further down to reach the lock. Her hours spent practicing on different locks paid off; the lock opened easily and quickly.

Before opening the window, Buffy sprayed it with a substance that would disguise any noises. Tucking her handy dandy James Bond toys back inside her pants pockets, Buffy slowly and gently eased the window open. Finally the window was wide enough for her to squeeze through. Lifting herself back up, Buffy trekked over to the chimney stack, almost losing her footing in the process. Several bits of wood tile made their way down onto the ground, causing her a brief moment of panic. Buffy froze, pausing for a few moments to see if the falling pieces brought any unwelcome company. Luck was with her as no one appeared, and with a small sigh of relief, Buffy resumed her duties.

Lifting the black nylon rope from around her shoulders, she wrapped it tightly around the chimney. Securing the loose rope through a hook on her belt, Buffy began to propel down the roof. She carefully lowered herself down until she came face to face the attic window, not wanting a repeat of her earlier slip. Climbing through the window and drapes, Buffy smoothly landed with her specially made boots, silently landing on the dusty floor of the dark, deserted attic. Her eyes immediately adjusted to the dark; her excellent vision enabling her to see things clearly. She unclipped the rope from her belt, leaving it to dangle next to the window, hoping and praying that no one came out and noticed.

Quickly shutting and locking the now soundless old window, Buffy closed the drapes. Creeping over to the door, she saw the faint ray of light underneath it. Buffy placed her ear next to the door; the only sound she detected was brief muted footsteps and voices on the 1st floor. Her plan had been to fully reconnoiter the house first, before heading to the basement to keep an eye on the kidnapped girl.

With each passing moment, Buffy’s feelings grew stronger for Willow, but she kept pushing the feelings away, convincing herself that she was simply concerned about keeping the girl safe so the Prophecy could be successful. The transparency of this rationale grew thinner and thinner. It was only a matter of time before the transparency broke, setting the truth free.

In the back of her mind, Buffy knew this would be soon. ////

Lost in her memory, Buffy's body had moved on its own accord to kneel right in front of Willow.

‘‘God, I’ve never even met you! But there’s something…something… I don’t know…ya know? I mean, it’s like we’ve met before... like I know you. And I feel like you know me, even better than I know myself. “

Buffy paused in her whispered babble, feeling frustrated at being unable to fully articulate what she was feeling. “I thought maybe it had something to do with the prophecy, but I think it’s more than that…” A sudden thought struck. “Oh god, I’m going all Shirley Maclaine!” Buffy rolled her eyes at herself. As she gazed at Willow again, gooey thoughts produced a goofy smile, leaving Buffy to wonder how this girl had the ability to reduce her to a puddle of sap.

Buffy had felt disassociated from life for so long; she had felt so empty. Her entire being had been consumed by one thing: revenge. She wouldn’t allow anything else inside, but now it seemed she had no choice; the girl had gotten under Buffy’s skin in the best possible ways.

Sure, she’d kept continuous watch over the two girls during her week here, but this was the closest she had ever been to the young redhead. As Buffy took in the beauty before her, she felt her primal self inside stir, threatening to emerge. She consciously clamped down hard on it, forcing her primitive part back down deep inside. Now was no time to give into basic instincts, but Buffy did allow herself the luxury of enjoying being this close to Willow.

The unconscious girl’s body slightly slumped in the chair she was bound to, her head rolling off to the side. Willow’s red hair fell like a curtain, draping over her face. Taking off her right hand glove, the blonde reached out to lightly touch the silky, fiery red hair, gently brushing the fallen strands away from her face. Tucking a few loose strands behind the small, sweet ear, Buffy tenderly caressed the redhead’s cheek in a light, loving touch. How she longed to spend numerous hours tracing innumerable patterns between the liberal amount of tiny freckles she knew she would find all over the redhead’s body.

As Buffy subconsciously softly stroked Willow’s face, she remembered how Willow’s emerald green eyes sparkled brighter than any gem when she laughed, and how the girl’s smile was like summer sunshine itself, spreading warmth over Buffy like a soothing balm.

Buffy loved how Willow was so full of wonderful contradictions: sweet and kind, yet tough; naïve, yet wise; fragile, yet strong. There were so many layers underneath that Buffy felt that it would take more than a lifetime to discover them all.

The basement door opened, startling Buffy’s rumination. She quickly pulled her hand off of Willow’s cheek, slipped on her glove, and stepped back quietly into the shadows behind a couple of old crates. Buffy frowned, hearing not just Travers, but another man as well, descending the basement stairs. Travers strutted towards the girl, with the arrogant swagger of a man not to be denied what he felt was rightly his, and no doubts whatsoever upon his ability to collect it. Buffy felt utter disgust at the pompous ass and his soldier shadow keeping pace behind him.

Travers stopped just short of knocking Willow's knees with his own. Buffy growled lowly when Travers reached out to roughly turn Willow’s head, holding the girl’s chin tightly.

“Miss Rosenberg still appears to be in a deep sleep.” Travers dropped Willow’s chin abruptly, and turned to his soldier. “We need to wake her before the Slayer arrives.”

The soldier gave a slight nod to his superior, and stared with an inscrutable expression at the unconscious girl. “The dart knocked her out completely, Mr. Travers. The dosage was more than enough to do the job.” His eyes returned to Travers. “It might be a bit tough to bring her around, sir.”

“Yes, yes. I see.” Travers removed his gaze away from the soldier to stare at the young witch, seemingly lost in thought. After a few moments, he spoke again, facing the soldier. “What, in your opinion, would be the best option, Mr. Smith?”

“I feel the best option available to us is smelling salts, Mr. Travers. Simple, but usually effective. If it doesn’t work… there are other… methods.” Buffy saw him scrunch his hand into a fist, and had to fight herself to not break her cover, and pummel him into the ground.

Travers nodded his assent. “I’ll go upstairs to retrieve the salts, Mr. Travers.” The soldier left, leaving Travers to return to his contemplation of the young witch.

Buffy wondered what he was thinking. She knew his ultimate goal had been for the redheaded girl to die tonight. Willow Rosenberg had become a formidable witch, and Travers seemed to have underestimated how powerful the girl had become. Did he really think she could be restrained by some simple ropes and shackles?! Buffy knew once the young witch was conscious, his bindings would not hold. Was he really that stupid or just that arrogant?

What was worth that kind of risk?

***

“Giles, what the h-“

A sudden buzzing noise on Faith’s hip startled the Slayer and her Watcher. Faith jerked the pocket pager off her leathers, and checked the number, frowning.

“Who is it?” Giles ventured to ask. Bravely, he thought.

“It’s Cordy. In other words, probably Xander.” She glared at him, shoving him aside. “I need to call him back. “

Picking up the receiver, Faith paused, staring at the numbers on the dial pad. Abruptly dropping the receiver back onto its cradle, Faith pivoted to face Giles with a cold steel look in her eye. “Before I call him back, I want you to tell me what happened to Willow and where she is.”

'If looks could kill....' he thought uneasily.

Giles slipped his hands into his pants pockets, trying for a cool, relaxed posture, and wondered why he even bothered. Faith was about to blow and his own fight for control of his emotions and of the situation was rapidly deteriorating. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to hold back anymore and Faith needed and deserved to hear the truth, even his fears.

He cleared his throat. “I have reason to believe that Quentin Travers may have her.”

“What?!”

Giles intervened as quickly as he could. “Faith, I need to confirm this. There may still be other reasons why Xander hasn’t heard from her.” Giles withdrew both hands from his pockets, proceeding to remove a handkerchief from his suit jacket lying on his desk chair.

“Yeah, but you seem to lean towards this particular one, and I wanna know why.” Her tone was insolent and he couldn't blame her.

He wiped his glistening brow with his right and uncharacteristically jammed his handkerchief back into his suit pocket without care. “When Quentin and I…ah…discussed you and the test the other night, the subject of how you would be…ah…lured to the Council safe house was brought up. It was suggested, not by me, that I would tell you that one of your friends was in trouble at the safe house, so you would rush out to save said friend. It wasn’t supposed to be-“

Giles was cut off by Faith grabbing his shirt with a look of murder in her eyes. “So help me, God, Giles, if anything fuckin’ happens to her, you do not want to be around when my powers return.”

Before she was aware of it, Giles had grasped Faith’s wrists, causing her to release her grip on his shirt. Giles held fast onto her wrists and his grip was so strong, her lack of strength made the struggle to get free futile.

“Faith! Faith, listen to me!” The Slayer ceased her struggle, the daggers in her eyes never leaving. “It was not supposed to be for real! It was only meant to be a ruse. Again, this was not my idea; it was Quentin’s. I disagreed with it. In the end, it was decided to have me drive you there on the pretense of the safe house being a vampire nest.” The Watcher loosened his hold on Faith, providing her with the opportunity to pull out her wrists entirely. Faith stepped a few steps back, wincing slightly, rubbing the soreness of her wrists. Giles saw this action, and his guilt magnified. “There was no way that I would agree to causing you any more distress.” The Watcher put a hand on his hip, and rubbed his hand roughly along the back of his neck.

“Using your love for your friends was over the line.”

***

Faith bit down an angry retort to this, choosing to bury her emotions, something extremely difficult for her to do.

If Willow was in trouble, the Slayer needed to be all business. Faith drew a deep breath to compose herself. “Okay, Giles, let’s review. You think Travers has Willow at this safe house to make sure I appear. But you need to call Travers to confirm this.“

Giles nodded, and despite his guilt ridden expression, Faith had no sympathy. She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “Alright, call him.”

Just before Giles reached the receiver, Faith stopped him. “Giles, wait.” She stared hard at him, needing to know the answer to her next question while simultaneously not wanting the answer.

“If Travers knew you wouldn’t use Willow as an excuse to get me to come, then why did he still bother to kidnap her?”

***

Gradually the sounds of murmurs filtered through the shroud of mist that enveloped not just her mind but her entire being.

As the fog continued to lift, the murmurs grew louder. Male voices. With distinct British accents. The girl wanted to move her body but it required too much effort.

“Miss Rosenberg, wake up.”

Willow vaguely heard one of the male voices speaking to her as she struggled towards consciousness. “Do it again,” she heard the voice say. Willow’s head recoiled as she got another whiff of the pungent odor under her nose. Her emerald green eyes, now glazed over from the drugs in her system, opened slowly and painfully. Through the haze the man took shape, standing before her in a darkened room lit only by candlelight. It was a monumental struggle to keep her eyes from closing, but slowly it became easier, and the man in front of her morphed into a pudgy older man dressed all in tweed.

When did Giles get all pudgy? she thought, disoriented.

The pudgy British man spoke to her again, this time in a much louder voice, making Willow slightly wince. “Miss Rosenberg, wake up.”

“I-I’m awake.” she croaked, blinking.

The pudgy British man’s tone became one of smugness, the amplification of his voice returning to a more reasonable level. “Good. My name is Quentin Travers. I am the head of the Watcher’s Council. You have been brought to a Watcher’s Council safe house. You are in no danger. This is all part of a test given to the Slayer should she survive to her 18th birthday. You are being used to lure the Slayer here.”

For the first time, Willow noticed another male figure next to the Council head, half hidden in the shadows, watching her closely.

“W-what?” Willow found the strength to shake her head to clear out the cobwebs, trying to make sense of what this man was telling her.

Travers continued. “Miss Lehane must defeat a vampire foe in order to rescue you. The Slayer will be arriving in-” He took out his pocket watch, glancing at the time.” – under half-an-hour.” Travers turned to his subordinate. “Smith, go upstairs, and make sure the preparations are complete. I shall be up shortly.”

“Yes, sir.” The half-hidden man stole a glance at Willow which she was unable to interpret.

What was happening? She knew Travers was head of the Council and of Faith's hatred towards what Travers represented. And despite his attempt to hide it, she was aware of Giles' continual struggle between duty to the Council versus his protectiveness of his Slayer.

For all of the Council’s callousness, this whole situation seemed extreme, even for them. And the more awake she became, these vague thoughts became more and more defined, only serving to create an increasingly state of anxiety.

Once the subordinate man had left and closed the basement door, Travers faced Willow.

He casually placed his hands in his pockets, slightly leaning back, rocking almost imperceptibly on his heels.

“I am aware of the strength of your powers, Miss Rosenberg. You have been stunned with an agent designed to inhibit your magical powers. Also, “he smirked,” the ropes that have you bound to this chair, are held together by magick. The shackles around your ankles are not held by magick, but the likelihood of someone having the skill to unlock them is highly doubtful. So you see, it is useless to try to resist, or to try to escape.”

Willow‘s anxiety was now beginning to border on panic. Her eyes grew wide with fear, and she squirmed in her chair.

Travers' smile turned patronizing. “Don’t worry, my dear, as soon as the test is over with, you will be set free. This is necessary for the test to be completed.”

His reassurance did nothing for a now almost fully awake Willow, for the girl recognized it for what it was: a lie.

The condescending smile fading, Travers slid his hands from his pockets. As he began to lean closely to her, Willow gulped nervously, for his whole demeanor changed to become one of menace, oddly reminding her of Sunnydale’s resident undead.

“Now, I want you to tell me everything Giles and your Scoobies know about the Phoenix.” Travers moved into her personal space, and she could swear his eyes glowed red. Willow briefly entertained the impression of his teeth extending intent on sucking her dry. She was his prey and he was leaning in for the kill.

“And, pray, do not leave anything out.”

Travers was so close now, Willow could smell the faint odor of brandy on his breath. Without conscious thought, the girl instantly recoiled.

“I have a tendency to become quite unpleasant when I am not told the truth.”


	7. Running The Full Gamet Of Human Emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time. An upset Faith tries to put aside her emotions to focus on saving Willow, including her anger at Giles, who swears to help as much as he can. Buffy is full of emotion watching Travers question Willow over her knowledge of The Phoenix Prophecy. And, how does Wesley Wyndam-Pryce figure into all of this?

Willow blinked.

Twice.

She felt completely thrown off guard by such an unexpected question. The redheaded girl was on overload, which inevitably led to-

“The Phoenix? Like the mythical bird, or the city in Arizona? Cuz...ya know… obviously… not the same thing…I mean, the bird is a myth in various mythologies that dies and is reborn, where the city is where…phew...Hot! Oh! And one time, I was there visiting my relatives. It was very non-fun. I got sick from too much heat, but my mother said I ate too many hot dogs… it was just like that time I went backstage at Snoopy On Ice… and threw up all over Woodstock…but that’s cuz I was scared and-”

Travers jerked back, seemingly astounded that someone could say all of that in one breath. He cut off the red faced, out-of-breath girl. “I’m talking about the prophecy, Miss Rosenberg. What does Rupert know about the Phoenix Prophecy?"

Willow sucked in a few deep breaths to compose herself after the babble fest. “There’s a Phoenix Prophecy? If there is, none of us know about it. Giles certainly never said anything. Besides,” A spark of anger flared within the young witch, overriding her fear. “Shouldn’t you be asking him this? Listen, Mister Council Guy, despite what you may think, he doesn’t tell us everything, you know.” Willow sat up straight in her seat, her head held high in a gesture of defiance. “ Maybe if the Council didn’t go around kidnapping people and torturing their Slayers with some stupid test, he would actually tell you things. But no, you people are even worse than I imagined,“ Willow taunted.

Despite Willow’s posturing, her tummy was doing a dance of the butterflies. She began to wonder if provoking Travers was such a good idea. It was rather like surprising a tiger by tugging its tail and (perhaps foolishly) ignoring the bite sure to come.

Then amazingly enough to Willow, the 'tiger' paused in its attack, as if not expecting its teaser to have the guts to perform such an act. The intense red glow in Travers' eyes faltered, returning to their natural hue, and Willow began to feel her courage surface, with even a faint hint of smugness. This jubilation was short lived however as she realized the 'tiger' would simply choose to alter the means of attack.

The face off was diverted by the sound of the basement door opening. A male voice echoed from up above. “Sir, I apologize for interrupting, but you have an urgent phone call from Rupert Giles.”

Willow’s brow furrowed. Giles? What does Giles have to do with this? Is this what he’s been hiding for the past week?

“Yes, very good. Tell him that I will be up momentarily.” Willow heard the irritation in Travers's voice; the annoyance at being interrupted during his interrogation of her crystal clear. Her impression was of a man used to having every order blindly followed. Willow had challenged this axiom, and now Travers wanted to immediately restore the balance of power in his favor.

“Very good, sir.” The basement door closed, leaving them only in candlelit shadows once more. “Well, Miss Rosenberg, it appears that we are out of time.” Travers gave Willow a long look, while the young redhead stared back, still resolute. “I am going to ask you one more time: How much does Rupert Giles know about the Phoenix Prophecy?”

“I told you-nothing!” Willow shouted, red in the face. In spite of her anger, curiosity got the best of her and she asked defiantly, “Why do you want to know so badly?”

Travers seemed to pointedly ignore Willow’s last question. Instead, a slow satisfied smile crept up into his half lit face, prompting a shiver from the girl. This so-called 'man' was much worse than any wild animal, Willow realized; this 'man' was a 'monster' in human form. “Now, Miss Rosenberg, I am confidant that you have been completely disabled and are no threat to tonight’s festivities. However-“ Travers pulled his hand back into a tight fist ”-we can’t have you interfering in the Slayer’s performance, now, can we?”

The last thing Willow saw was a fist flying into her face.

***

'Okay, on the count of three: One. Two. Three!'

Faith’s closed eyes popped open in the vain hope that this surreal reality was nothing more than a nightmare induced by too much junk food. Her world and her emotions had been swept into chaos, and she desperately wanted it not to be real.

Trying to gain a sense of equilibrium, Faith focused on one thing: Willow. Despite her surrogate father’s betrayal, Faith believed that Giles had been completely honest about his limited information regarding Willow’s disappearance. But could she set aside her hurt, anger, and disbelief long enough to trust him? She needed him both as both a friend and as her Watcher in order to survive tonight and rescue her closest friend. Faith shook these thoughts off as she heard Giles finish his phone call to Travers.

“Yes, fine.” Giles’ voice was terse. “We will be there be there in approximately 15 to 20 minutes.” The Watcher hung up his desk phone. Closing his eyes, Giles roughly rubbed his brow.

Faith couldn’t stand it any longer, recognizing Giles’s signs of giving bad news. “Well?! What’s going on, Giles?”

Opening his eyes, he pursed his lips. “I’m afraid he does have her, Faith.”

“Shit! I’ll kill the bastard!”

“Faith, the best we can do at the moment is to go through the test. We can work out the logistics on the way over in my car. I realize that you are very angry with me at the moment-“

“That’s an understatement,” Faith spat out.

“-but can you put it aside for the moment? We need to concentrate on bringing Willow out of there, unharmed.” Faith's face darkened, and Giles paused before continuing. “I also fear there is something else behind her kidnapping. I’m not entirely sure at the moment what it is, but I do sincerely believe that Willow is in grave danger.” Giles glanced at his watch. “We are running out of time.”

Faith’s hands were balled into tight fists. “Okay, whatever, Giles. I’m callin’ Xan, and then we’re getting the hell outta here.”

“Faith, you cannot tell him where we are going. I know Xander, and he will attempt to follow us. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m not gonna lie to him, Giles. I don’t lie to my friends.” Faith glared at him meaningfully. “I figured I could get them to wait for us at your place. He can get in with the extra key you got hidden by your front door. I’ll only tell him enough information so he knows what we’re dealin’ with. I don’t want him to follow either.”

Faith picked up the receiver and began to dial.

***

Travers handed Smith his cell back, satisfied that Rupert would follow his instructions.

They were in a converted shed, outside in the back yard of the Council's safe house. Travers really wished he could light up his pipe right now. It was so soothing.

“Smith, this is very important. Whatever happens tonight, regardless of whether the Slayer passes her test, Willow Rosenberg must not be allowed to survive.” Travers looked Smith in the eyes. “The witch is a confirmed liability to the Council’s purpose, and therefore must be eliminated in whatever way possible. Do you understand?”

Travers noticed an evil glint in the young man’s eyes and smiled at the sight. Smith was easily the brightest of his soldiers, always understanding and performing his duty well. Unlike the moronic Bolton, Smith was not a 'yes man', secure enough in offering alternatives, while seemingly not to question his master’s orders. Travers trusted no one, but Smith was as close as anyone would come. The soldier was essentially his master’s right hand, the only one Travers had confidence in to get the job done.

“Yes, sir, I understand completely.”

Travers stopped Smith as the soldier’s gloved hand was on the door. “Smith, this is your mission only. Brown and Jones are of no consequence and are therefore expendable if they impede your mission in any way.”

Smith’s dark eyes lit up.

“I never could stand the bastards anyway.” The soldier smirked at Travers, opened the door, and strode off into the chilly, invigorating night air.

Travers sat down in his plush chair, and poured himself a cup of Earl Gray with a look of utter contentment on his face. Everything was in place and going according to plan. Travers felt his interrogation of the young witch had answered any remaining doubts, as he was confident that she was speaking the truth. He sensed no lies from her, feeling that if she did, they would be transparent at best. No, Travers felt all was good in his world.

For tonight all his problems would be eliminated, and his ultimate control would never be threatened again.

***

“Xander, forget 'bout it, man. You’re not comin’. Deal.”

Faith was losing her patience with her thickheaded friend. She knew Xander cared deeply for Willow, and she appreciated that. But right now, the Slayer really needed him to let it go, and trust her to get the redhead back safe and sound.

“Faith, you know I’m a good shot with the crossbow. You and Giles can’t fight a vampire nest by yourselves.”

Faith ran her hand through her brunette hair in frustration. “Okay first of all, yeah, you can fire a mean crossbow. But that don’t matter at the moment. Second: There ain’t no ‘vampire nest’. But Red’s in trouble, so I need you to do what I tell ya. As soon as we grab her, we’re gonna go right over to Giles’ house. I don’t know what’s gonna happen, so make sure all the first aid supplies are set up. Be armed, just in case. Got it?”

Faith heard her friend sigh, relenting. “All right, we’ll head on over, and turn G-Man’s place into the 4077th. ” The brunette boy paused. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

“For fuck’s sakes, Xander! Just do what I told you already.”

Faith nearly slammed the phone down, she was just so agitated at the moment. She really wanted to vent her usual way, but she didn’t think hitting something without her Slayer powers would be too wise at the moment.

“Xander pissed me off, but he’s doin’ what I told him to.” Still feeling every emotion from A to Z, Faith turned to face her Watcher, who in turn, stared pensively back. As Faith felt the Slayer inside her begin to stir, an intense focus took over. The time for action had come. She may not be running on all thrusters, but now that it was time to go into battle, her entire being kicked into high gear.

Oh yeah, she was sooo ready to kick some ass.

Smiling inwardly, Faith put aside her fears and doubts, allowing her natural bravado to come out. Once that swagger was in place, the Slayer was ready to take on the world.

Startling her Watcher, the Slayer cocked her head, with a big smirk in place. “All right, Giles, let’s get going in that closet you call a car.”

Giles looked affronted, but relieved at the same time. “It’s a Citroen. It may be French, but it's perfectly serviceable.”

“Serviceable? What is that; British for moves like a snail?"

***

LONDON, ENGLAND

“Ah ha!”

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce was excited.

Well, as excited as a stuffy British Watcher could be, at any rate.

Wesley had been exhaustedly searching for more information on the Phoenix Prophecy, and had actually found another piece to the puzzle. Granted, it was smaller in scope, but it led them to an important item necessary to thwart the enemy. Wesley looked forward to telling his colleague of his discovery, feeling rather pleased at the reception the information would bring.

Immediately Wesley's happy balloon deflated. His stomach began to churn; he had forgotten tonight was Cruciamentum. This information would matter for naught if the favorable outcome was not achieved. But surely with the extraordinary preparation, there was no question. After all, Wesley had had a confirmation on this before the test began, and confidence was high on all ends.

Trying to brush his concerns aside, the young Watcher laid his glasses down on the maple wood table, briefly rubbing his tired eyes, and sank back into the cushy armchair. As much as he tried, the young Watcher still couldn’t stop one more thought from entering his mind: what if something did go wrong? Wesley knew for sure that he did not want to be on the receiving end of his colleague’s anger should the unthinkable occur, and as he stared into the glow of the desk lamp, the echo of his colleague’s parting words resonated within his mind.

Failure is not an option.

***

Stepping gingerly out from the shadows, the figure observed the sight before her, feeling such a rush of a variety of emotions that they threatened to engulf her.

Love. Anger. Hate. Fear. And finally, resolve.

Buffy Summers knew she had to get a grip on herself, but that was a definite challenge at the moment. The amount of candles set up around the room made for an eerie picture of flickering light dancing in the dirty, cluttered basement. The stage was set for the horror movie to begin: a helpless tied up girl in the basement; a psychotic vampire about to be let loose in a seemingly deserted house; another helpless girl on her way to confront said psychotic vampire in a barbaric rite of passage, while struggling to save her friend in the process; and while all of this takes place, pure evil in the guise of a human being sits back and watches in satisfaction. Watching Willow, Buffy was bound and determined not to let the reel reach its foregone conclusion.

Passivity was no longer a viable recourse. There were alternatives to completely revealing her presence; opportunities would present themselves, providing her the ability to protect both girls. As these thoughts filtered through her mind, she began to formulate plans to do just this.

One place to begin, was to unlock the shackles around Willow’s ankles. Reaching into her pants for her pick, she kneeled down, preparing to jimmy the lock. Before starting to, however, she peeled off her black glove, and tucked it into one of her pants pockets. Reaching up Buffy softly caressed the unconscious girl’s face, mindful of the already forming black and blue bruise.

“Don’t worry, baby, I won’t let them get you.”

Buffy broke the lock with ease and smirked.

So Travers thought the lock was too difficult for anyone to pick, huh?

Buffy paused, and in a fit of childish glee, stuck her tongue out at Travers via his security cameras. Maybe he couldn't see her, but she loved beating him at his own game.

Besides, it was fun and he was such an ass.

She eyed the shackles, wondering at the best solution in making sure they appeared locked. After fiddling with them compulsively, Buffy finally settled on an arrangement, leaving the shackles hanging loosely around the girls ankles. Unfortunately, she knew there was nothing that could be done about the ropes, as they were bound to Willow by magic, and Buffy didn’t have the power to release the bonds.

After finishing, she tucked the pick back into her pants, and then stood up. Buffy knew the time had come for her to leave the young redhead to watch for the Slayer, but the thought of doing so tore at her heart. Noise from up above startled her, and she realized that she running out of time. Leaning down, Buffy hesitated briefly before softly kissing the girl. As their lips met, a powerful surge of warmth and love emanated throughout Buffy. She gasped through the kiss at the rush, feeling the groundswell flow from her into the redhead.

And to Buffy's surprise, she was kissed back.


	8. Plans And Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith and Giles arrive at the house and prepare to rescue Willow while Buffy and Smith watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I took two more liberties as well. Giles' car has a taped glove compartment that opens up when he shifts gears. At one time, I had an old VW Bug that did that, and just thought it would be amusing. Also in canon, Buff doesn't have allergies to hibiscus plants, but she does in mine!  
> -I know it's not Canon but I made Buffy have hay fever just because I find it amusing.

A living flame flared through Willow, sending such an intense sensation that she thought she might scream from the sheer force of it.

The young witch’s body fairly radiated with power and the passion of love. She felt like an electrical cord put into a socket as the electricity coursed through her veins. Even though her hair was not standing on end, the redhead felt it should be. Willow was more alive, more awake than she had ever been in her life. Overwhelmed, she popped open her eyes to reveal-

Nothing.

How could she have just kissed someone who wasn’t even there?

Confusion and arousal were competing with one another as Willow wildly looked around her. The tingling sensation in the back of her mind was strong, but this time there was no fear or warning of danger. Right now, the ability to place a name to this sensation eluded the young witch.

As focus re-asserted itself, the flummoxed redhead gasped as she caught sight of what looked like an outline of someone in front of her glowing. Before she was able to process it, the form vanished.

What the frilly heck is going on?

***

Buffy abruptly broke off the kiss, which threatened to overpower her by the incredible intensity and intimacy of it.

Pulling back, the astonished blonde gaped at the young redhead, and almost subconsciously, she touched her burning lips with the tips of her fingers. Suddenly a glowing Willow’s emerald eyes sprung wide open revealing dilated pupils, peering around her in bafflement. Startled, Buffy quickly withdrew her fingers from her lips. Upon doing so, she was appalled to realize that she herself was glowing as well! As Willow’s sight landed on her location, Buffy froze, caught off guard. Fortunately as quickly as it had come, the glowing stopped.

Impulsively, Buffy leaned in close to Willow, speaking in a whisper, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

The blonde tenderly, briefly caressed the unblemished side of the bewildered redhead’s face before quietly and quickly, making her way behind the discarded crates. Looking up above her, her eyes focused on the very small basement window that only a skinny 5’2’’ girl could squeeze through.

Her hazel eyes flashing amber, Buffy slipped on her black glove and began her ascent.

***

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

Willow almost jumped out of her skin when she heard that. Then she felt a light as a feather touch on her cheek, soothing her; there was comfort, safety, and most surprising of all, love.

All too soon, the touch left and so was the person with it. The young witch sensed the invisible presence move behind the crates. Within a moment, the subtle scuffle of a body maneuvering through the basement window let Willow know that she was alone.

No, that’s wrong. Not alone. Willow amended to herself in happy realization.

Not anymore.

***

The petite blonde easily manipulated her body through the very small window.

The window had actually been surrounded by a liberal amount of foliage on the right side of the house. This worked out well as from this point of view, Buffy could easily see the Watcher and the Slayer arrive, while also keeping an eye out on the front yard.

Buffy brushed the dust and soil off of her jacket and pants, wondering to herself why she even bothered when they would just get dirty again. The lithe blonde raised her wrist to check her watch, once again thankful for the glamour; especially since, her watch seemed to light up like Rockefeller Center during Christmas when the 'light' button was pressed. 6:55 p.m. She had really cut it close. The Slayer would be arriving within minutes.

'What happened back there, and what the hell was I thinking?! I’m jeopardizing the mission because I can’t keep my hormones in check… No, no, it is more than that... What I felt in there…god…it was fuckin’ fantastic!'

The threat of a sneeze interrupted her ruminations. Looking around, for the first time, she realized she was tucked away in the midst of a hibiscus plant.

'Great. That’s just great. That Slayer better hurry up before I sneeze, giving myself away. I thought my immune system was supposed to be super strong…Well, I did get that bad flu once. Maybe it only works for healing?'

Buffy took off her black glove in annoyance. Pinching the bridge of her nose, her mind drifted back to her earlier, much more pleasurable musings.

'Willow felt it too…I could tell…I mean…wow! She actually kissed me back!'

A slightly goofy smile made its way across Buffy’s face, immediately followed by a small frown. Willow probably thought she was kissing someone else.

Or did she?

Buffy’s multi-tasking of internal babbling, pinching her nose, and watching for the Slayer continued; when really, all the while, she wanted nothing more than to kiss a certain redheaded girl senseless.

***

“Ow! What the fuck, Giles?!”

As Giles had shifted into second gear, his taped glove compartment suddenly came loose and hit Faith in the knee.

“Sorry. I’ve been meaning to get that fixed.” They stopped at a light, and Giles reached over to the glove compartment. He shut it, while simultaneously pressing down the abused duct tape, in the hopes it would actually stay stuck this time. Turning his head to Faith, he smiled. “There. All better.”

Faith absentmindedly rubbed her knee. “Giles, even I know you make enough money to get that shit fixed.” Just as Giles was about to respond, Faith pointed in front of them. “Giles? The light? Green means go, ya know.”

Giles looked chagrined. “Yes, quite right.” He shifted into gear and the car sped off.

Silence reigned for a moment, the air rife with tension. Faith was charged up with extra energy and struggled with the impulse to jiggle her leg, but that option was obviously out. After a few minutes, impatience finally got the better of her. “How far is this place, anyhow?” The Slayer eyed her Watcher warily, feeling her trust for him waning again.

Not taking his eyes off the road, he answered,” Not far. About ten minutes away. It’s on the outskirts of town.”

The Slayer wanted to storm the place, but Faith reined in that part of herself, realizing grudgingly that battle preparation was needed and warranted. She sat up straight in her very small seat, trying not to injure herself any further in Giles’ ridiculously small car. “Okay, Giles, it’s time to go over a game plan. So first, tell me more about the test and the house.”

Giles drew a deep breath before he began. “Quentin will be expecting me to wait here in the car for you until it’s over. Kralik is not to be released until after you enter the house but from where, I don’t know. My guess is that they are holding Willow either upstairs, most likely the attic, or downstairs, possibly the basement. Whether she’ll be awake or tied up, I really can’t say for certain.”

Faith interrupted. “Shit, Giles, is there anything you do know for sure?”

Reminding Faith of his earlier vow, he answered in frustration, “Faith, I am telling you everything I know.” Giles removed one hand from the steering wheel, rubbing his brow roughly with his hand. “Only two of the Watchers’s operatives will be present. They will be preoccupied with dealing with Kralik and Willow, so they should be too pre-occupied to notice me. After you go in, I will wait a few minutes and then proceed to follow you in.”

Faith took a moment to process this information. “Where the hell is that asshole Travers supposed to be while all this shit is goin’ down?” Recognizing the look of surprise on her Watcher’s face, the Slayer rolled her eyes. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter as long as I get Wills out of there.”

Returning his hand back onto the steering wheel, Giles was pensive. “You’re correct. I don’t know where Quentin will be-” Before she could interrupt, he continued. “-for certain. Originally, I had been informed that he would be at another safe house, awaiting a phone call from one of his operatives when the test was completed. However during later conversations, I received the impression from Quentin that he was interested in witnessing the test. “ At this, Faith sent Giles a venomous look. She saw him visibly shudder from it, and felt perversely pleased about it. “With everything that has happened-”

“Like my best friend being kidnapped and put in a house with a psychotic vampire?” Faith snarled.

Giles seemed annoyed at the interruption, but Faith also noticed the sympathy glimmering in his eyes. ”I would be remiss if I didn’t voice the suspicion that unfortunately Quentin may be somewhere close by, in full view of the house.”

Faith was already tired of this conversation. “Whatever, Giles. You figure out how to deal with Travers. I got other shit to deal with.”

Giles opened his mouth to speak, but closed it with an audible snap. After a moment, he spoke. “All right. We should be arriving in a few minutes.”

Saying nothing, Faith turned away from him, slumping into her seat. As she stared vacantly out the car window, Giles turned his full attention back to the road.

They continued the rest of the journey in silence, each lost in his or her own thoughts.

***

“All right, nancy boy, where are you?”

Smith sat huddled in the foliage growing around the left side of the house. He checked his watch, making certain to keep the glow of the watch light from sight. It was 1858 hours.

Upon leaving Travers, he decided to wait for the Slayer and the Watcher. No matter what Travers thought, he still didn’t trust that the Watcher would strictly adhere to Travers’s orders. Smith had met his kind before and knew that their weakness lied in their so-called “morality”. The Watcher would fold and run in to help the Slayer, despite orders to the contrary. He would sacrifice himself in order to keep his Charge safe.

Just like Smith’s own father.

The bloody bastard.

Oh, yes, Smith knew his type well.

And he would punish the Watcher for that weakness.


	9. A Son's Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Special Ops soldier Thomas Brown Jr. used to believe in the Cause and duty without question. In the face of releasing a psychotic Vampire on two young girls, he begins to wonder if he is doing the right thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) This chapter is a deviation from how I've been doing POVs. The POV is from the OC character Spec Ops Brown. He is, and is going to be, the only one I write in first person. I felt for his part in the story first person POV would have the most impact.
> 
> 2) For you history buffs out there, I did take a few liberties with my reference to the Falkland Islands Conflict involving the UK. There really was a HMS Sheffield and it was sunk by the Argentines in the Falkland War on May 10th, 1982. As far as I know, the kill and injured numbers in my story are the same as in the actual events.
> 
> 3) Brown's journal entry is separated by --------------------

\-------------------- 

From the Log of Thomas Brown Jr.

21 January 1999

My strongest memory of my childhood was the death of my father.

It was 1982. My father, a seaman in the Royal Navy, had been sent to the Falkland Islands in order to protect the United Kingdom’s rightful sovereignty. He never questioned his orders; he simply went to do exactly as he was told. I started to cry as he was leaving, but my father informed me that 7 year-old boys were too old to cry. I immediately stopped, not wanting to disappoint the man I worshipped; the man I felt always did the right thing. He instructed me to take care of Mother, left, and came back home in a coffin.

On the 4 May, his ship, the HMS Sheffield had been hit, killing twenty and injuring twenty-four others. The ship did not fully sink until the 10 May. We were never told the details of his death. Only that he had died in a fire, and that he had died doing his duty.

My mother cried. I didn’t cry. I knew I had to be strong. At that point, the only thing that mattered to me was making my father proud. I vowed to myself that I would always do my duty, even if I should die in the attempt.

I began as a British soldier, excelling enough to be assigned to the British Army Special Forces. Eventually, I was singled out to be a soldier for the top secret Watcher’s Council. It was considered a high honor. We were working for a Cause, to keep the world safe from evil I had never dreamed existed. I was proud and did what I was told, believing my superiors knew best. I was willing to die for that Cause because it was the right thing to do.

Now I’m wondering if it is.

\---------------------

***

“Brown! What are doin’ in there? It’s your turn to feed the bloody bastard.”

“Just a moment. I’ll be right there.”

“Right...well, hurry up about it.” Jones sounded disgruntled. He hated and feared the monster, and hated being the monster’s keeper. Jones would complain about it, only wanting the test over as soon as possible so he could get his money. He could care less about the Cause or the welfare of the two girls. Jones had been a top mercenary, and was interested only in the amount of money the Watcher’s Council could provide. I couldn’t stand him, for he had no loyalty, except to himself. I could never believe he was hired in the first place. But he was like a dog with a bone; dangle the right amount of money in front of him, and he wouldn’t question a blasted thing.

I had been writing in my small, black logbook, and swiftly stuffed it back under my pillow, not wanting it to be found. As of late, doubts about the Cause, or I should say how we are instructed to help the Cause, have periodically crossed my mind. I knew the Slayer would be nothing more than a human girl during the test, but I didn’t even question whether it was right or wrong to put anyone through this, until I saw Kralik. I’ve seen a lot and he even frightened me, a big, burly 220 pound highly trained soldier. How could a mere girl survive this?

And then, we were sent to capture the redheaded girl. She was being used as bait for the Slayer, but I couldn’t help but think that there was more to it than that. Travers had been so adamant in making sure she was captured and brought here. Travers had said if she died during the test, she was dying for the Cause. The redhead was expendable. As we tied her up in the basement, I couldn’t help but notice how young and innocent the girl looked. Again, I began to feel twitches of doubt. It bothered me to think that Kralik could kill or turn this girl, most likely in a brutal fashion. I was always taught to protect women. I couldn’t help but think that even my father, as attached to duty as he was, would object to this.

“Travers just called. It’s almost time to release the bloody animal.” He nodded towards the box we kept Kralik in. Jones looked a mess. Neither of us had slept much in the past couple of weeks. His unshaven face and dirty clothes gave testament to this condition.

A loud thump from the coffin startled me, as I was about to reply. I stared at the coffin-sized prison.

“When was the last time he ate?” I asked.

“Last night, when you fed him. Travers wants him hungry for the test.” He shrugged.

More thumps sounded. Kralik had been getting worse and worse.

Our instructions stipulated that as soon as the Slayer arrived, we were to release Kralik into the “field of play” as Travers called it. The psychotic vampire knew what he was supposed to do and relished it. Travers had made some sort of deal with him that he would have a “reward” once the test was finished. Neither Jones nor myself knew what that entailed, but that really didn’t concern us at the moment. Each of us just wanted it over.

We were to follow him, making sure he fulfilled his part of this “deal”. If he bested the Slayer, he would be put back in the box and wait for Travers to come through on the deal. Kralik was aware that if he deviated in this test, whether it be by trying to escape the house or harming any of the operatives, he would be dusted.

Though this didn’t seem to bother him very much. I briefly wondered if Kralik was even going to follow through on Travers’s deal. After all, it wouldn’t take much for him to escape. I don’t think Jones or I could stop him.

I glanced at my watch. “Right, then. It’s almost time. Let’s get-“ I reached down in the act of grabbing a crossbow when a loud crash thundered behind me, knocking me off balance. I stumbled into the wall, losing the crossbow in the process.

“Bloody hell!” Jones cried.

Turning round, I saw evil itself, squeezing the life out of Jones’s neck.

“Hello. I feel in the mood to play, don’t you?” His demonic visage appeared, and I could see Jones wet his pants while he struggled in the monster’s grip. Even through his game face, I could see the psychotic looming just below the surface.

I scurried and was able to grab the crossbow from the ground. I drew the bow back, locking on my target. “Put him down.” Jones continued to gag, but at this point was almost unconscious.

Kralik gave me an amused, bewildered look. “Now, why would I want to do something like that?”

“What about your deal with Travers? Right now, you’re throwing it all away!” I yelled at him, trying anything I could think of to get him to put Jones down.

“Oh, I don’t care about Travers or his “deal”. I can handle things just fine on my own.” He squeezed Jones’ neck just a little tighter. “It’s almost time for the Slayer. But I think I’ll begin playing right now.” With that, he snapped Jones’ neck like it was a twig, faster than I could blink.

Kralik turned his visage towards me. “Now, I believe it’s your turn.” His face contorted into a grotesque smile. I fired my bow, missing his heart by inches. The psychotic vampire stopped his movement and looked down at the piece of wood protruding out from his chest with amusement.

I seized the opportunity, slid the stake from my pocket and lunged for his heart. Quicker than I could realize, his hand shot out, stopping the stake a mere few inches from his chest. I knew Kralik was strong but I wasn’t prepared for how much. He grabbed my arm, turning me, and pining it behind my back. Kralik’s other hand painfully grabbed my neck, lifting me off my feet.

“Soon, I will taste the sweet nectar of a Slayer’s blood. It will be so satisfying to kill a Slayer, and the witch as well. But you’ll do for a quick snack.” Kralik nuzzled my neck, grazing his teeth along my neck. “Mmm, dinner time.”

The demon's fangs sank deep into my neck, and I heard myself scream, as if from a faraway place. As I began to drift into lasting oblivion, the last thing I saw in my mind was my father’s face.

And then just like my father, I died; doing my duty.


	10. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans were set, Plans had been executed. But along the way, plans had changed. Instead, a vow of revenge becomes a vow of love.

“Okay, Wicca Girl, time to do some damage!”

Willow shifted around in her chair, struggling to re-gain her composure. It seemed impossible to sit still at the moment she was so wired. The redhead experienced a feeling of empathy for Xander, as she recalled his errant behavior minutes before the bell would sound for lunch: poised and ready to rocket from his desk in glee.

'I can do this. Focus. That’s what’s needed. I’m good with focus. Focus gal, that’s me. Yes-siree, I’m all about the focus!'

Trying to ignore the throbbing and slow rising swelling of her left cheek, Willow closed her eyes, concentrating. Concentrating hard. Visualizing the bonds breaking.

'Focus, Willow. Deep breaths...yeah...that’s it...deep breaths.'

The redhead’s chest expanded, her breathing becoming heavier. Unfortunately, the effort to control her racing pulse was not as successful.

'In, Out…In, Out…Deep breaths…bonds breaking…bonds breaking…Poop head Travers…evil Council…Stop!... Okay…focus…deep breaths…bonds break…kissing…mmm…yummy soft lips…no, no! Bad Willow!'

“Oh, H-E-Double hockey sticks!”

Willow eyes flew open to the dimly lit basement in disgust with herself, as she huffed in frustration. She could feel the enhanced reservoir of energy coursing through her veins, but was unable to tap into it. Try as she might, the redhead could not seem to focus on breaking the magical bonds. And she knew concentration was what was needed in order to do it.

Willow’s mind felt like it was going to explode from all the sensory input of the last 24 hours.

The young witch had been kidnapped. She had been drugged with a sleep inducer, as well as a magick inhibitor. She was in a basement, bound by shackles and some sort of magical ropes, all supposedly on the pretext of luring Faith here for some “Council test”. But Willow was pretty sure that wasn’t the case. Travers had seemed too interested in her and something called “The Phoenix”. A prophecy, he had said. And why did Travers think she had information about it? Or that Giles would know about it?

That was another thing: Giles.

Willow had been aware for a while that the Watcher was hiding something but she could never pinpoint her suspicions. She felt it to be incredibly hard to believe that Giles would betray Faith’s trust that much to set her up for some insane Council test. But he was obviously involved in one way or another.

Best resolve face on display, Willow declared to the empty room, “Giles and I are going to have a little Sidekick/Watcher talk.” She finished with a firm nod, emphasizing her determination more to herself than to the non-existing audience.

Her musing began to turn towards a much more pleasant, but just as puzzling, surprise of the evening.

Someone had kissed her!

'Or something,' she amended, mentally. Willow bit her lip. No...no... definitely a Someone.

Her eyes went wide. A female someone!

And Willow had liked it.

A lot.

The young redhead blushed furiously at the rather stimulating memory and her body’s reaction to it. A sudden couple of crashes and some loud thumps from upstairs startled her, bringing her out of her very distracting reflection.

'I'm supposed to be trying to get away, not thinking about naughty yummies…'

Attempting to gain some self control, Willow vigorously shook her head and once more tried to focus on something other than wanting to kiss those wonderful, sweet lips again.

***

Giles applied the parking brake of his Citroen and switched off the engine.

Faith was starting to wonder if they would ever get to the Council’s house, but they had finally made it. Giles had found a spot catty-corner to the house, partially hidden by the trees and overrun foliage nearby.

The Watcher turned to his Slayer, his expression unreadable. His eyes though conveyed to Faith the swirl of emotions running rampant through the Watcher. Grabbing a medium sized bag from the back seat, Giles said, “Here is a bottle of holy water, a stake, and a crossbow. Since you are supposedly coming on the pretense of this being a vampire nest, they will expect you to be armed.”

Faith took the assorted items, stuffing the stake and holy water into various pockets. She swung the crossbow over her shoulder, with it coming to rest on her back. After everything was sorted, Faith looked up, staring intensely into Giles’s brown eyes. “Ya know, this don’t change things, Giles. I don’t know when, or if, I’ll ever trust you again, but the only thing that matters right now is gettin’ Will outta there. Screw the Council and their bullshit.”

“Faith, I-“

Faith held up her hand to stop him from speaking and sucked in a deep breath. “Giles, I don’t want to talk about all of this right now. Look, I do appreciate you comin’ in to help, and no, I don’t want a Council Drone for a new Watcher. But things aren’t squared between us, got it?” Her voice was rough and her hard mask cracked a bit, leaving disgust with herself for showing any trace of emotion whatsoever.

“I understand.” Giles cleared his throat. “Go ahead and I’ll follow after waiting a few moments.”

Faith stared at him a moment, gave a terse nod, and left her childhood fantasy of a father behind.

***

'Finally!'

Buffy’s nose was about to explode with sneezes, even with it pinched between her fingers. The exploding wasn’t limited to her allergies. The virtue of patience had left the building during the last ten minutes and it had been a struggle for Buffy not to just tear the plants surrounding her out by their roots. It was five minutes after seven, with the Slayer and the Watcher only now just arriving in the Watcher’s battered old Citroen. It soon became apparent however, that Buffy’s frustration was not to be mollified any time too soon, as Slayer and Watcher made no move to exit the car.

'What the hell are they doing? Just get in there and do it already, Slayer!'

Buffy knew she would have to be quick about stepping behind the Slayer as she entered. Tugging her discarded black glove back on her now chilly hand, she carefully disentangled herself from the hibiscus plant and silently went to stand close to the door.

As she waited intently, Buffy continued to scrutinize the couple in the car with her excellent night vision. The Watcher handed the Slayer a crossbow, along with other items unseen by Buffy, which the Slayer stuffed into her pockets. A few more words between the two and the Slayer left the car, determination etched into her features. Buffy watched as the Slayer stole a quick glance around her and rapidly make her way across the street.

Poised for the Slayer’s entrance, Buffy saw a flash of something on the other side of the house, hidden away in the bushes. That “something” was a man. What the hell was he out here for? Wasn’t he supposed to be inside keeping an eye on both Kralik and the Slayer?

Buffy was so distracted that she almost missed the Slayer coming right towards her. Buffy stepped aside just in the nick of time, and watched breathlessly as the Slayer pushed the door open just wide enough for the petite blonde to slip through. As Buffy stealthily tread inside right behind the Slayer, she unconsciously caressed her pocket where her best friend resided.

This was it.

The first major hurdle in executing a vow of revenge made three years ago.

A hurdle that she had carefully and fully prepared for: to keep the Slayer and the Witch alive during Cruciamentum in order for the prophecy to be fulfilled.

Only two days ago, this vow was all she thought she had to live for.

Plans were set. Plans had been executed. But along the way, plans had changed.

The witch had become more than a means to an end; more than just a necessary player in the prophecy. She had become a living, breathing human being. A human being whom Buffy had never actually met, but who had succeeded in breaking down all of the defenses the petit blonde had managed to build during the last three years. This very human girl gave Buffy a reason other than revenge for living.

With her eyes flashing amber and a feral grimace, Buffy Summers, a Slayer who wasn't supposed to exist, was prepared to do whatever it took to keep a decidedly, quirky young beautiful redhead named Willow Rosenberg alive for nothing more, nor less, than the reason of love


	11. Cruciamentum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith starts the Cruciamentum, and it's worse than she imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! These next two chapters will have some graphic blood and gore. Also, Kralik is severely evil, and the way he stalks Faith is pretty scary. 
> 
> Kralik spouts off altered nursery rhymes and songs from the Wizard of Oz as he terrorizes Faith. 
> 
> Willow is a Wicca badass. Her Ancient Egyptian line of "Kheftey ne Ra! Peri!" is my (probably bungled) translation of "Enemy of Ra. Leave!"
> 
> //// indicate flashbacks

Buffy’s first impression was David Beckham meets Norman Bates.

The large living room off to the left held remnants of a British pub with a dash of chaos, carnage, and blood accentuated only by the high dancing flames in the fireplace. The flames created eerie shadows lurking ominously, seemingly ready to leap out to attack the helpless 18 year-old girl at the slightest provocation.

On the battered old coffee table were the remnants of ale in a Manchester United glass and a half eaten plate of fish and chips. Laying beside the unfinished meal was a copy of what looked to be the Daily Telegraph open to the sports section with the smattering of liquid scattered on the well-worn page. As the lingering smell of the ale and the fish mixed with the smell of blood assaulted Buffy’s senses, she could only hope that the spilled liquid was nothing more than ale.

But, that hope was quickly dashed as her eyes traveled to the right of the coffee table landing on a truly gruesome sight.

In the middle of the room was a dead man grotesquely propped up in a very simple dining room table chair. The man’s bulky Manchester United jersey was torn violently leaving his chest bare, with words carved into it: "What are Little Girls Made of?" His head was at an obscene angle, indicating that his neck had been broken. One eye socket was empty, and Buffy hoped to every deity imaginable the eyeball wasn't rolling around somewhere nearby.

The bottom of his chair was a puddle of blood. Buffy could see blood dripping from his body, and thought it came from his still covered long sleeved arms draping down his sides. Just as the Slayer bent over, reaching out with her hand to get a better look, Buffy wanted to scream at her not to do it.

Buffy’s sharp eyes spotted the shredded remnants of cuffs with both wrists savagely ripped open with muscle and bone protruding through the wounds. Kralik must have decided to feed from each wrist. Buffy thought she was going to vomit at the sight and had to turn around to regain her composure, desperately looking for anywhere else to rest her eyes upon. Buffy’s line of sight wandered up above her to the ceiling and her eyes caught what they hadn’t before: video cameras.

Fuck! She was so startled and angry at herself that she very nearly spoke aloud. Goddamn it! Why didn’t I notice those before?! What else have I missed?

Before she had time to admonish herself anymore, she heard the Slayer throw up. Turning around, Buffy saw the teenage girl rising from her knees; her sickness lying in a pool on the rug. The smell of the vomit did nothing to help the state of Buffy’s stomach. An involuntary shudder ran through the petite blonde as she fought to control her body’s reaction to this nightmare turned reality. Instead, Buffy put forth all of her focus on assessing the state of their situation.

Looking down at the ugly beige living room carpet, Buffy noticed for the first time the signs on the floor of a bloody trail. The trail seemed to indicate that a body had been dragged along the floor, with its starting point from somewhere out in the hall. Most likely the dead soldier in the living room, Buffy mused. Stepping back into the hallway, Buffy saw the trail lead along the runner, and then disappear into another room, farther down the hall. As she contemplated about whether to leave the Slayer or not to check it out, she heard a masculine voice humming tunelessly from that room. The humming changed to singing, and the voice grew louder as it grew closer.

“London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down.”

Quietly moving back in towards the living room to keep watch over the Slayer, Buffy stole a glance at the teenager, seeing her eyes open wide in panic and fear as she gripped her crossbow tighter.

The voice continued its rendition of the old nursery rhyme as the singer materialized, causing Buffy to suck in her breath at the awful revelation of what the helpless girl truly had to face: a body that once held a human monster, and now housed a demon with its previous host’s penchant for death, destruction, and psychotic behavior.

“London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady.”

***

“Hello, my fair Slayer.”

Standing not four feet in front of her was an over 6 foot tall 200 plus pound serial killer vampire. The flames in the fireplace half lit his face, causing his demonic visage to seem even more menacing. Faith felt the warmth of the fire behind her, but its heat did nothing to stop the shiver of cold and fear that ran through her body. Ice began to cascade through Faith’s insides, as her sweaty hands adjusted her crossbow to take aim at the monster.

“Or, should I call you Faith?” Kralik spoke to her in a polite conversational tone. “Actually, I think I like that better. “ The psychotic vampire tilted his head in apparent thought. “My fair Faith. Yes, I like that. I like that very much.” A feral smile appeared on his face as the yellow in his eyes seemed to sparkle in delight.

Faith’s entire being froze. Her mind flashed to a memory forever embedded in her subconscious, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.

/// “Mmmm…yeah….mmm…so tasty…so good.”

Kakistos shoved the woman’s now bloody, mutilated dead body aside. The master vampire turned slowly towards her, grinning through the blood and flesh hanging from his mouth.

“Your turn, Faith.” ///

Giving her head a quick shake, Faith’s world came back into focus to see Kralik slowly beginning to move towards her.

“You know, my mother was fond of nursery rhymes.” He paused in his advance, his eyes straying from Faith’s for a moment. “It became like a game to her, trying to find the right rhyme to recite to fit the punishment for whatever crime she decided I had committed.”

Faith’s eyes darted to various parts of the room, the deep shadows making it difficult to figure out any avenue of escape, while at the same time trying to not lose sight of the psychotic vampire.

Still lost in his memory, the monster continued to rattle on. “One time, when I got dirty in my mother’s garden, she punished me by taking garden shears to crush the snails I was watching and to snip my little puppy’s tail off. You know what she said to me as she did it?” His eyes turned to re-focus on Faith, while he resumed his ominous approach. “What are little Boys made of? Snips and Snails…Bad, dirty snails! Bad, dirty little boy!…And puppy dog tails…Your wretched dog’s tail will never wag for you again, and it’s all your fault!…That’s what little boys are made of.” His tone became one of slight bemusement. “I actually loved that dog.”

Faith tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. The teenager set to steady herself, and readied her crossbow to fire. The psychotic vampire was now within arms length, his visage now entirely visible. Kralik began to half recite, half-sing in a tone so soft, it seemed designed for only Faith to hear.

“When I killed her, I… took a key and locked her up, locked her up, locked her up. Took a key and locked her up, my fair Faithy.”

Faith squeezed the trigger, but it was too late. The demon had already reached out, seized her bow, and broke it without the slightest effort. He waggled his finger at her in admonishment. “No, no, no, my fair Faith.” Before she was aware of it, he grasped her neck, gently squeezing. Faith struggled within his grip, as her shaky hands blindly searched for the holy water bottle inside her pants pocket. The vampire’s fangs grew closer to her neck. Suddenly-

Kralik abruptly released his hold on Faith in apparent surprise, as the vampire seemed to stagger back a bit, favoring his left foot. He seemed to stare about himself in confusion, as if trying to locate some unseen force.

Seizing this opportunity, Faith retrieved the errant holy water from the deep recess of her left pocket. Screwing the top off, Faith threw the entire contents into the demon’s face. Faith heard the hiss of the steam coming from the burn on the vampire’s face. With his eyes closed, she heard the sigh, not of pain, but of bliss.

“Aaah, thank you. That feels sooo good.” The smirk on his game face terrified Faith. Fight or flight kicked in, and in a blind panic, she darted around him running towards the stairs while he seemed to revel in his pleasure of pain.

***

“Faithy.”

Behind her, Buffy heard the sing-song tone in Kralik’s voice, as she took the stairs two at a time in her attempt to stay close behind the panicked, stumbling Slayer. As Buffy rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, she saw the Slayer running pell-mell for the attic stairs at the end of the long hallway.

'Crap. How do I stop her from going up there?!'

Buffy was panicking. Everything was happening so fast. The discovery of the video cameras had knocked her for a loop. She felt frustrated at herself and the situation. Not to mention the discovery of Kralik’s handiwork as well as the psychotic vampire himself.

“Fee! Fie! Foe! Fum! I smell the blood of Slayer bum. Be she alive, or be she dead, I’ll grind her bones to make my bread.”

Buffy was surprised, and relieved, when the Slayer hesitated just before the steep attic stairs. Buffy wondered what was going through the Slayer’s mind, as her own mind wrestled with ways to help the Slayer.

The creak and groans of the stairs grew louder as Kralik’s slow deliberate steps brought him closer to the top. The Slayer swiveled, her body visibly shaking. She stared wide-eyed down the long hallway lit only by a small Coleman lantern hanging on the ceiling by a hook.

The smell of fear rolled off the Slayer in waves, and Buffy now realized that the Slayer was not thinking at all; she was just running on basic instinct of survival.

As Kralik finally appeared at the top of the stairs, the Slayer’s darting eyes settled on one of the bedroom doors. Heading to the first one on her left, she threw all her weight against it, falling through as it opened easily. The Slayer stumbled, falling down on the floor, her momentum actually carrying her just shy of the back wall. The door still stood open, and Buffy quickly stepped inside, kicking it shut with her foot. Noticing no lock from the inside, Buffy grabbed a piece of wood nearby, and put it down under the door crack to wedge it shut. The Slayer seemed not to notice, as she hugged herself, while kneeling on the floor, facing away from the door.

Buffy’s highly sensitive eyes traveled across the room, getting familiar with it. Luckily, the room was even more dimly lit than the rest of the house. The only light showing was coming underneath the door. The room was barren, with the exception of a camera situated in the far upper left hand corner. Buffy could only hope that it wasn’t sophisticated enough to pick up their movement.

'Fuck! She’s in shock. What the hell else can I do, without calling attention to myself?'

“No, no, no.” Buffy heard the anguished, pitiful moans whispered by the Slayer.

Buffy ran her hand through her hair in frustration. 'Snap out of it, Slayer! I know you can do better than this!'

As she slowly and silently began to walk over to the curled up teenage girl, a sudden BANG got her attention and her head whipped around to see the door shake.

***

So predictable.

Dark eyes looked down at the crumpled older man lying on the ground. Bending down, Smith grabbed a hold of the unconscious Watcher and dragged him into the bushes he had just vacated. After Smith was satisfied that the Watcher was safely tucked away and presented no threat to his plans, he rose, dusted dirt from his trousers, and stepped up to the front door.

Opening the door, Smith's eyes adjusted to the low level light as he stepped inside. Closing the door gingerly behind him, he paused, stepping into the shadows, taking stock of the situation before he continued. He didn’t want to alert the Slayer or his colleagues to his presence. The other soldiers were presumably following the psychotic vampire and his Slayer foe in order to make sure the test was completed successfully. Smith, though, very much doubted that they could guarantee any kind of favorable outcome touted by their superior.

Only Smith was good enough for that.

The soldier scanned the area, noticing the dark stain of blood on the hallway rug. The blood seemed to run a trail towards the living room. His attention was diverted as he heard shouting and crashing from above. Startled, his eyebrows rose momentarily before his face turned once again into an impassive mask.

Moving on, he walked further into the house. Upon reaching the living room, he stole a quick look inside. Smith paused, his dark, dispassionate eyes taking in the mutilated body of Jones framed in front of a roaring fire.

Continuing down the hallway, Smith passed the room where he knew Kralik was to be released from. The door was wide open, with a low-lit kerosene lantern. Brown’s dead, drained body lay sprawled on the floor, close to Kralik’s former coffin cell. Next to Brown, was the beginning of the bloody trail, marking the death of Jones. The fact that Kralik had killed the two soldiers actually made his task that much simpler. He expected Brown to rise soon. If Kralik didn’t kill the witch and the Slayer, Brown would.

Smith wasn’t surprised by this turn of events. His contempt for these so called 'special ops soldiers' felt even more justified; his belief in their ineptitude proven. Each was so fixated on their own pathetic obsessions of money and duty, that they couldn’t see the truth right in front of them.

It was all about power.

Smith was savvy enough to know there was more to Travers than meets the eye. Yes, he was head of the Council, but there was some, perhaps even otherworldly, power hidden deep inside him. A power that Travers held in check, but that was there nonetheless. When Travers fully tapped into that power, Smith had no intention of being left behind. He fully intended to be there by Travers’s side.

Smith left the room for the basement to keep an eye on the one thing that would take away this power, and to make sure it was destroyed: a young witch named Willow Rosenberg.

***

BANG! BANG!

The girl stopped rocking, and turned wide, frightened doe eyes to see the looming psychotic vampire peeking at her through the crack in the door.

“Pins and needles bend and break, bend and break, bend and break. Pins and needles bend and break, my fair Faith.”

Faith saw the bits of light peek through the crack and underneath the door in the otherwise pitch black room. As the light was behind him, she couldn’t see much of the monster’s face, other than his glowing yellow eyes, which gave testament to his ability to fully see her.

Kralik grunted, struggling with a door that seemed to be more sound than expected. “You know, my Fair Faith, my dear mother was also very fond of The Wizard of Oz. The movie, though, not the book. She liked to sing The Wizard of Oz songs to me while she beat me raw.” The psychotic vampire, pausing in his relentless attack on the door, began to sing in a high pitched tone in a demented imitation of the munchkins.

“Ding Dong the Witch is dead! Which young Witch? The Slayer’s Witch. Ding Dong the Slayer’s Witch is Dead!"

The monster paused, musing, “I think I might like to go down to the basement to have a taste of the Slayer’s sweet witch."

A guttural scream tore from Faith’s throat. “You fuckin’ bastard!” At the mention of Willow, a hot thread of anger replaced the paralyzing fear, bringing with it a new clarity and new resolve.

She wasn’t alone.

She had herself.

And her own self was enough to help her best friend.

Faith scrambled to her feet, hearing the ring of Kralik’s insane laughter just outside the door. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t forget about you, my fair Faith. I won’t forget about you.”

Faith’s eyes darted around the room, while her mind whirled with thoughts on how to escape and save Willow.

Keep him talking and away from Willow.

She skirted right next to the door hinges, flat against the wall. That’s when she saw it: the door was wedged shut with a small block of wood.

'What the-?'

A plan started to form in the back of Faith’s mind. She bent down, and struggled to quickly bring out the wedge. Standing up, Faith quietly scooted back to her original position, and taunted the psychotic vampire. “You mean you’d rather have an ordinary witch instead of the rush of a Slayer’s blood? What kind of master vampire are you? No wonder your mother beat the shit out of you.”

She glimpsed him peeking through the crack, but fortunately, she was too far to the side for him to catch any sight of her. “Just for that Slayer, I changed my mind. You get to be first.”

Placing her hand on the cold doorknob, she took a deep breath and then quickly, and roughly, opened the door.

***

It was hot, oh so hot.

Willow knew subconsciously that beads of sweat were cascading down her face, but forced herself to ignore it. Her emerald eyes were closed in supreme concentration. In her mind’s eye, Willow could see a ribbon of energy shining brightly in the full spectrum of colors. But the ribbon seemed wild, untamed as it crackled high like a bonfire, emitting sparks. The ribbon seemed to dance, but it danced with delight. Willow knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it radiated happiness and joy. It encompassed everything that was pure and good in this world.

Focusing on it, Willow concentrated on molding it, shaping it, calming it down. The ribbon adjusted to suit her needs, and Willow proceeded to send it to counter the black magick binding her to the chair. Opening up her mind’s vision further, she became aware of the dark force, eventually able to see the dark as night snakelike ribbon as it curled and twisted alongside the ropes covering her wrists.

She directed her energy ribbon to the darkness surrounding her wrists. As Willow’s energy ribbon came into contact with the dark magick, there was a struggle where Willow thought she was going to lose. Concentrating harder, she directed more energy to the ribbon reinforcing it, making it stronger. The energy ribbon grew larger, fully overcoming the dark. Suddenly, the bonds broke; the ropes slipping off her wrists and falling from the arms of the chair onto her flowered print skirt.

“Well, it seems that Travers underestimated your power.”

Willow’s eyes, now the color of iris, opened wide, causing Smith to start.

“What the bloody hell…”

Willow felt the rise of power infuse her body again and was aware that her body’s seen aura was the color of the rainbow. As she saw Smith raise his tranquilizer gun, she pushed forth on the power and saw him hit the stack of boxes opposite her. Smith shook his head a moment, before raising the dart gun he still had in his hand. The tranquilizer dart hit its mark, albeit only in the right lower leg. Willow grunted, looked down briefly, and unconsciously spoke.

“Kheftey ne Ra! Peri!”

A box dropped on him, knocking him out, and Willow’s eyes returned to their emerald green.

***

As Buffy watched the Slayer, she released an inaudible sigh of relief.

Buffy’s eyes had flashed amber in her rage; a rage that she barely contained at the vampire’s intention to go to the basement and kill Willow. Buffy was pleased to see that this had seemed to jump start the Slayer as well. The rage within her subsided a bit, but her thoughts kept returning to keeping her Willow safe.

Thankfully the Slayer had returned from wherever it was her mind had retreated and had begun to take back control of the situation. Buffy had seen the wheels turning in the Slayer’s mind as she had spotted the wedge under the door. A look of confusion had crossed the Slayer’s features briefly, before they had set into an expression of grim determination, as well as sudden revelation.

As the Slayer withdrew the wedge from underneath the door, Buffy had an idea of her plan, especially when the Slayer goaded the vampire. But Buffy worriedly couldn’t help but remember her mother’s warning of the danger of playing with fire.

And Buffy feared the Slayer would get burned.

“You mean you’d rather have an ordinary witch instead of the rush of a Slayer’s blood? What kind of a master vampire are you? No wonder your mother beat the shit out of you.”

From her vantage point somewhat close to the Slayer, but far enough back to stay out of the way, Buffy saw the vampire withdraw, his face from the crack in the door.

"Just for that Slayer, I changed my mind. You get to be first."

As the vampire rushed the door in his effort to get the Slayer, the girl swung open the door. Taken by surprise, Kralik fell inside, the impetus carrying him to the middle of the room where he stumbled but remained standing. As the girl darted out of the room, the psychotic vampire pivoted to face the open doorway. He took in a few unneeded breaths and shook the hair from his face in a seemingly bemused pretense of trying to compose himself.

“Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of spears! Thought you were pretty foxy, didn’t you, Slayer? The last to go will see the first to go before her!” A very large feral smile made its way across the vampire’s visage, and he burst forth into song with apparent glee.

“The Witch is not only merely dead, she’s really most sincerely dead!”

Buffy had been searching for a means to delay Kralik, but at the mention again of Willow’s death.

Buffy was unable to stop the primal rage within her this time from releasing.

The psychotic vampire never knew what hit him.


	12. Vows Kept and Vows Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith and Willow summon their last ounce of strength to make it out alive, but is it enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Still gore and blood
> 
> -used various nursery rhymes and songs (especially from Wizard of Oz) I adapted for Kralik to terrioze Faith with. As a disclaimer, I own none of those obviously.
> 
> So ends part one of The Phoenix Prophecy! The second part I will post shortly. I realize you will have unanswered questions at the end here, but the next part will start to clear things up. The next part will also start immediately after this chapter.
> 
> -Thanks for reading!

Faith stumbled through the basement door and shut it louder than she intended.

As she desperately, fruitlessly searched for a lock that apparently didn’t exist, she heard a low moan coming from the basement floor. The few candles that had been lit were now waning. Looking below from the top of the stairs, Faith could barely discern a small female body lying on the floor, clutching her leg.

“Will!”

The small female form looked up. “Faith? Is that you?”

Faith almost let out a sob of relief at the sight of her best friend still alive. Shaking her head a little to clear it, and to gain back some semblance of control over her emotions, she raced down the creaky stairs to her friend’s aid. Kneeling down on the dusty floor next to the fallen redhead, Faith took in Willow’s condition. She noticed the bleeding coming from Willow’s leg below the hem of her skirt. Faith’s eyes picked up on a tranquilizer dart that lay off to Willow’s left hand side. She gently touched the wound, but Faith quickly withdrew her hand when she heard Willow’s whimper of pain. “Hey, Red. What happened?”

Willow smiled weakly, but offered no explanation. “Can you help me up? I don’t think we should stay down here.”

Willow’s words brought Faith back to the waiting terror lurking up above. She nervously licked her lips. “Yeah…sure. We…ah… definitely need to find a way out of here. Soon.” Faith smiled ruefully. “I got a vampire after me who makes Drusilla look sane.”

Forgetting for a moment that she had no Slayer strength, Faith slid her arms under the redhead’s body in order to lift Willow up. Surprise and realization crossed her features, as she was barely able to the lift the girl. Faith grunted in frustration as she let Willow go. “Wills, I don’t got my Slayer powers right now. I-”

Willow swayed, but cut Faith off at the pass. “I know, Faith.”

“How-“ Faith began in bewilderment.

Willow cut her off again. “I’ll explain later. Just get behind me, and drag me over to that small box over to the right. Maybe we can use it as a leverage to lift me up.”

“Okay, okay.” Faith bent down, and wrapped her arms around Willow's chest. Faith's hold was in a tentative grip and before she began to drag Willow over to the box, she spluttered an apology. “Sorry Wills, I’ll do my best not to hurt you as I do this, but…well-”

“Just do it, Faith. I’ll survive. I’m fading fast. I don’t know how much longer I can last without passing out.”

Suddenly, a loud noise signaled the basement door opening, and Faith was dismayed to hear an all too familiar singing voice.

“Wake up, sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed.”

Faith felt panic rise in her throat, wondering how she was going to protect both Willow and herself.

“Fuck," she whispered, momentarily closing her eyes. Turning to the young witch, Faith slowly opened her eyes back up. "You able to use any of your mojo right now, Wills?”

The white-faced redhead grimaced feebly in apology. “Sorry, Faith, I don’t even think I could float a pencil right now.”

The demonic voice continued its serenade to the girls, as its owner began to descend the groaning staircase.

“Wake up, the Slayer’s Witch is dead. She’s gone where the goblins go-”

Faith released Willow, and stood up, reaching for her stake inside her jacket pocket.

'Giles, where are you?'

***

Giles awoke with the taste of dirt in his mouth.

Actually, there WAS dirt in his mouth.

Giles made several gagging and spitting noises, desperately in need of a clean hankie. Unfortunately, the need for cleanliness was outweighed by his inability to move.

“Blast!” He whispered, wincing at the pounding in his skull. The pounding in his head only served to make matters worse as his eyes roamed his “prison”: a large, thick bush.

At last was the welcoming sight of the beginning of a hole that stretched wide enough for a man to crawl. Contorting his body in such a way that he just knew he would be sore later tonight, the Watcher set about clearing his passageway, trying to ignore his pain. The foliage covering the path moved easier than expected, with Giles realizing it was merely superficial. The poor job indicated more a delay tactic than anything else.

Upon clearing it, Giles managed to twist to slide his arms all the way through the hole and was able to grab onto something to drag himself the rest of the way out. Once completely through, he sat up, sucking in a deep breath to clear his throbbing head. Gingerly touching the back of his head, Giles winced upon feeling the angry, rising bump on his noggin.

'Why is it always me who gets knocked out?' the Watcher thought ruefully. 'Where am I, and how did I get here?'

Suddenly in a tremendous rush, the events of the evening came back to him. Giles struggled to lift himself onto his feet, nearly collapsing from vertigo and fighting off the urge to toss his cookies.

Relieved to at least be standing (albeit precariously), he slumped against the side of the house. Taking his glasses off, Giles grabbed his handkerchief from his pants pocket, and cleaned them roughly. Pressing down on the lenses to a breaking point, he suddenly stopped the action once he realized what he was doing.

'Come on, Rupert. It's certainly not going to help matters if you break your bloody glasses!'

If he was to be any help to Faith at all, he needed to get a grip on his emotions, not to mention shaking off the lingering sensation of vertigo.

After a quick (but rather satisfying) swipe of his face and neck, Giles felt unaccountably better. He pocketed his handkerchief, and allowing himself an extra minute or two longer to rest, finally felt collected enough to get his bearings. The side of the house matched the Council safe house and Giles breathed a sigh of relief. He was still in a position to help Faith and save Willow, but how much time had passed?

Concerned he may be spotted, Giles brought his wristwatch as close to his glasses as possible and tried to see the time without turning on the small watch light. It was no use; it was too dark to properly see anything. Giving in, Giles pressed the light button switch, which refused to light. Frustrated, Giles gave up the fruitless task. Regardless, he knew he needed to move. Now.

Cautiously, the Watcher stepped out from beside the wall, careful to make as little noise as possible. Peeking around the large bushes that were previously his “prison”, Giles noted the lack of anything or anyone. Not surprisingly, upon a thorough check of his pockets, all of his weapons were missing.

Glancing around, he spotted a decent sized branch. It hung rather precariously from a larger branch on a nearby Oak tree. Giles tentatively made his way to the tree, hoping the vertigo had made the last of its appearance. It had; with each step, his footing became firmer and more resolute, his head clear and free.

He arrived at the tree and snapped the branch off with only a minor struggle. Fortunately, the wood was already sharp enough at the end to slide into a vampire with ease. If he was to be any help to Faith at all, he needed to get a grip on his emotions, not to mention shaking off the lingering sensation of vertigo.

Against Kralik, however, Giles knew he didn't stand much of a chance. This stake may slow the formidable, big demon down but it would ultimately fail to dust. The amount of strength to drive the stake through the vampire's heart was simply too much without supernatural help. And even with the help of extra weapons...

Grasping the newly formed stake in his right hand, Giles began walking in earnest to the front door. Long past caring about his duty as a Watcher, he hoped and prayed that he was not too late to save his friends, even at the cost of his own life.

'No, not friends.' He amended to himself.

'Family.'

***

Brown slowly rose, the thirst for blood in his mouth.

Stretching his dead body with a renewed sense of being, the young vampire's mouth twisted into a feral smile. The man who had been so consumed with duty felt better than ever, thanks to his new Sire. His keen yellow eyes swept the small room, landing on a black book sticking out from under a pillow on his host’s cot. His host’s imprinted memories recognized it at once as his logbook.

A book filled with the pitiful ideals of honor, duty, and country.

Fuck that bullshit.

The demon knelt down next to Jones’ messy cot. After rummaging around a bit, he extracted a battered Havana cigar box from its hidden place underneath. Standing up, he proceeded to lift the lid, removing the Manchester United lighter. Grinning, the vampire lit the lighter and set fire to the book. He watched it burn in satisfaction.

“Goodbye, Daddy."

The demon once known as Thomas Brown, Jr. tossed the flaming book to the floor as the thirst for blood returned. The vampire’s head rose slightly, and his nostrils dilated at the smell of blood emanating from the living room.

The newly risen vampire made his way to its source in anticipation.

***

Buffy perched close to the kitchen door across from the basement entrance, awaiting Kralik.

Earlier, the primal beast within Buffy had broken free of its cage upon hearing the intent of the heinous monster to kill her beloved Willow. She had let loose a solid kick into Kralik’s stomach causing him to fly several feet backwards, slamming into the wall. Before her primal self could cause more damage to her cover, Buffy’s rational human had regained control. The beast within her went back into its cage kicking and screaming. Buffy had had to use all of her will power to walk away from totally destroying the monster threatening her Willow.

As Kralik had struggled to recover from the strong kick, Buffy had seized the opportunity to silently escape to the hallway and had taken flight down the staircase. At the bottom of the staircase, she heard the insane vampire’s booming voice.

“Well, well, well. I do believe in spooks. I do believe in spooks! I do! I do! I do!”

From above, Buffy had heard his lumbering footsteps. She had wondered if he would search for his phantom menace or whether the loathsome creature would set off directly to the basement. Not waiting to see his decision, the lithe blonde had raced to the kitchen. Buffy had set about to do whatever it took to protect the Slayer and the redheaded girl, as she lay in wait for the master vampire.

Buffy was primed as Kralik tore through the kitchen door, an intent focus only on the capture of his prey. It seemed that the vampire had foregone any ideas about pursuing the abstract, in favor of the tangible: the Slayer and the witch. Coming upon the basement door, the monster’s hand reached out and turned the doorknob. As he did so, he began to sing:

“Wake up, sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed.”

Buffy padded silently behind Kralik, who paused at the top of the basement stairs.

“Wake up, the Slayer’s witch is dead. She’s gone where the goblins go.”

Kralik began the ascent and Buffy positioned herself to stop him.

“Below-below-below. Yo-ho, let’s open up and si-”

Buffy never let him finish as she pushed him hard, causing him to fall ass over tea kettle down the stairs. Kralik landed with a thud, sprawled half way on the bottom step and half way on the floor. He lay there unmoving, and Buffy thought he must have been knocked out.

The lithe blonde threw her legs over the banister and jumped lightly onto the basement floor, ne’er making a sound. Buffy was only about five feet from the Slayer and Willow who both stared at the sight of Kralik in surprise and confusion. The Slayer stood stock still in a protective position over Willow, stake in hand. Buffy noticed the Slayer's ragged appearance, as well as her weary expression. Buffy didn’t know how much fight was still left in the girl.

But it was sight of Willow that made Buffy’s heart ache. Willow lay on the floor, blood seeping from her leg, weak and fragile. Even in the fading candlelight, Buffy saw the pale, sickly features and the drooping eyes. It was only a matter of time before the redheaded girl passed out. She longed to reach out to her Willow; to comfort her, and let her know that she and the Slayer were not alone. Buffy went so far as to actually stretch her right arm in order to do so. Realizing what she was doing, Buffy instantly jerked her hand back.

While the Slayer still seemed disconnected from reality, Willow blinked and with a shake of the head, Buffy saw clarity return. Buffy’s heart leaped into her throat in alarm, as Willow’s head rose with her focus centered on the petit blonde’s locality.

Could Willow see her? Had her glamour worn off?

For one long, frightening moment Buffy was the recipient of Willow’s intense gaze. Unexpectedly, Willow broke off her scrutiny and turned back to the Slayer, calling her name.

“Faith!”

***

Easing himself through the door quietly, Giles was fearful of what he might find.

These fears increased significantly as he spotted the bloodied rug where it was obvious a body had been dragged. Following the trail, he turned into the living room, only to come face to face with something that spoke not of demon, but of the monster inside a human being. The sight of the mutilated man made him ill, as well as the obviously recent strong smell of vomit on the floor.

Not seeing any signs of anyone else nearby, Giles, pinching his nose, turned and walked rapidly back to the hallway. He stopped just short of the entryway, as he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Giles tilted his head, spotting a security camera. It caught him so off guard that he stared at it longer than he should have. Suspecting this the product of Travers, Giles cursed himself and the Council Head. He knew now it mattered little what he did, as he was most likely seen. Upon completion of this insane “test”, Travers would immediately dispatch the errant Watcher.

Fighting the urge to flip the bird at the camera, Ripper strode into the small hallway. He surveyed the stairs, wondering if Faith had went up there or down towards the basement. Although Giles had heard no noise from above, he decided to check upstairs first. With one foot placed on the step, Giles was distracted by the sound of movement coming from a side room down the hallway. Turning from the stairwell, Giles cautiously made his way towards the room. His momentum was halted by an inhuman male voice.

“Goodbye Daddy.”

Giles stepped quickly to the wall, and blended into the darkness of the shadows created by the candelabra. As an acrid smell invaded his nostrils, he caught sight of smoke flowing from the room.

'Oh, dear lord. Faith!'

***

Just as he had reached the threshold of the doorway, the young vampire abruptly came to a halt in confusion.

His Sire was in trouble; the calling from his Master, deafening. Just a moment ago, he had delighted in hearing a human heartbeat. Brown's features contorted into a cruel leer, while his mouth had watered in anticipation of his happy meal with legs. Now, the newly risen vampire warred with himself over the need to feed or to help his Sire.

The pull of his Sire was stronger.

Ashamed of himself for hesitating even for the briefest of moments, Brown turned to exit the doorway to heed the calling from his Sire.

His one and only true father.

***

Just as Giles was about to throw caution to the wind, a vampire exited the room, and walked resolutely towards the dining room.

Surprised that the vampire seemed to ignore his presence, Giles let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Even though he was hidden in the shadows, Giles knew the vampire would be able to detect his rapid pulse. However, this vampire seemed focused on something else entirely.

The smoke coming from the room had begun pouring out in earnest. Removing his handkerchief from his jacket pocket, Giles covered his mouth with the soft white cloth. Gripping his stake in his right hand, he decided to check out the room before pursuing the creature.

Ducking inside, he saw it was empty, save the burning book on the floor. Giles tossed his makeshift stake onto a cot. Using his free hand, he grabbed a blanket. Giles smothered the fire, trying not to choke on the rising smoke filling the room. Retrieving his stake, he staggered from the room, gasping for breath. In the hallway, the Watcher bent over, coughing. Struggling to compose himself, Giles pocketed his hankie and forced himself to stand up, knowing he had little time.

Propelling himself from the wall, Ripper rushed after the demon.

***

Watch it wiggle. See it jiggle.

As Faith watched, Kralik toppled down the basement stairs in slow motion. The first thing that popped into her mind was that ridiculous TV commercial jingle for jell-o. She struggled to stay upright, her body was shaking so hard.

I’ve been hanging around Xander too long…or maybe it’s true that kids really watch too much TV…

“Faith!”

A weak, strained voice snapped Faith out of her rambling dazed thoughts. “W-what?”

“We have to get out of here before he wakes up!” Willow hissed at her. Faith was met with the most tired resolve face she had ever seen. “Hurry up and help me over to that box.”

Faith bent down in renewed vigor, placing a firm hold around her friend’s mid-section. “I got ya, Red. Let’s go.” Amid some grunting and Willow’s occasional whimper of pain, Faith successfully dragged the redhead over to the, thankfully, close box.

Willow placed her hand upon the small, but solidly built box. “K, on a count of three?”

“Gotcha.”

“One, two, three!”

The box held, and with Faith’s help, Willow was able to stand upright. Willow smiled, with her eyelids drooping. “Yay! Go me!”

“Yeah, go you.” Faith smiled fondly at Willow’s characteristic enthusiasm. When Willow started to sway, it was all Faith could to hold onto her friend. “Whoa there, Wills. You gotta stay awake to help me get ya out of here.”

The redhead gave a slight nod, and they began to stumble towards the stairs. In-between grunts and Willow's limp, Faith said, “Oh, there’s somethin’ I forgot to tell ya. Giles is here.” She noticed the surprised, then angry, look on the redhead’s face. Faith wondered at Willow’s strong reaction, and sought to reassure her best friend. “Don’t worry; he’s here to help. He came with me.”

Faith saw Willow’s confused look as they began to walk by Kralik. There was no way to avoid walking past him. His sprawled body lay haphazardly at the bottom of the stairwell, which provided their only exit. It would be a tight squeeze.

Just as they reached Kralik, Faith was distracted by something…familiar. No, correct that: someone. She swerved her head to look past Willow, whom leaned on her left side, to stare at seemingly empty air. Then…

“Shit!”

A powerful push on her legs caught her by surprise, and she landed backwards squarely on her butt. Faith was vaguely aware of Willow falling and rolling to the left-hand side, brought down by Faith’s inertia. Immediately, a supernaturally strong grip seized hold of both of her wrists, drawing her within only a few inches of the Kralik’s face.

“Going so soon? I wouldn’t hear of it. Why, my little party’s just beginning!”

Before she was even aware of it, the insane vampire had lifted her up. He slammed her violently into some tall boxes stacked up against a near-by wall. Faith's head spun, and suddenly there were two Kraliks instead of one. The insane vampire roughly clutched Faith’s throat in an extremely strong grip. He lifted the girl even higher so that her feet dangled with her toes skimming the floor. Immediately, Faith began to choke and gasp for air.

Faith dimly heard Willow screaming something at Kralik about letting her go. Even in Faith’s hazy state, she realized that it was only a matter of moments before she lost consciousness. She struggled to hold on, knowing that her friend was in no condition fight off this beast if she died.

Kralik stepped within inches of her, his fangs bared to their full length. His free hand gently brushed her long brunette hair off of her neck while he licked his lips in anticipation. Then the monster moved his head into the crux of Faith’s neck, sniffing it. The girl had to suppress the shudder racing throughout her body at the repulsion of this intimate act.

The Slayer inside Faith stirred sluggishly, but the limited power was enough for Faith to reach into that primal part in order to save Willow and herself. She thrust her right hand into her jacket pockets and rapidly withdrew a stake. If Kralik knew of her action, he gave no sign. Instead, he seemed to sigh in contentment.

“Mmm. Sugar and spice and everything nice.”

Just as the vampire’s fangs touched her neck, Faith lifted the stake, and used all of her strength to plunge the stake into his evil undead heart. At first, the girl thought she had missed. Seemingly startled, Kralik had extracted his face abruptly away from her neck. Then surprising both, his body turned into ashes right in front of Faith’s eyes. Through the copious amount of dust, and for the briefest of seconds, Faith could have sworn that she had seen the outline of a person. However, the shock of the evening distracted Faith from further thought about the strange vision. The teenage girl nearly fell to her knees as the overwhelming sense of relief and the abuse of her mind, body, and soul registered. Faith combed her hands through her hair to not only get the dust out but to also keep herself in control of her faculties.

“Faith, are you okay?” Faith heard Willow’s feeble voice ask. Somehow Faith doubted she would ever be “okay” again, but she gave the perfunctory answer anyways.

“Yeah, I’m okay, Wills.”

“Oh, good. I’m going to pass out now.” With that, the redhead sank to the floor, completely knocked out.

“Sire!” Faith heard a disbelieving voice ring out from the top of the stairs. Glancing up, Faith barely registered the expression of grief on the vampire’s face, before she saw nothing but dust.

The dust swirled, and as it settled a poised makeshift stake appeared, held by the man she used to trust above all else. As Slayer and Watcher regarded each other, one thought went through each of their minds: it was over.

***

Buffy on the other hand knew differently. 

All of her plans and training for this night during the past 3 ½ years was over. Buffy had been successful with the Slayer and the witch surviving. 

The completion of the Phoenix Prophecy was one step closer to the desired outcome. 

If the Slayer and Willow could endure the horrors of tonight, she felt they could endure anything. 

And she would be there to prepare them for what was to come.


End file.
